The Bambi Heist
by NortonFight
Summary: Once upon a time, a girl fell in love with a boy. But he left. Now she's on the lam with Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome. Ladies and gentlemen, please fasten your seatbelts.
1. Once upon a time

**I really like stories with the plot line: "Years after Edward left Bella…" And she's human and a lot ballsier, like ****LOST****, ****Irritable Grizzly Adams****, ****Seducing Ms. Swan**** and ****Fear and Loathing**** (which I really wish the author would update!). I'm trying for that.**

**Disclaimer- Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight. I do not.**

**CPOV**

Mutual Trust Bank - one of my favorites. Their employees are _always_ kind and very obliging. They generally have well stocked candy jars strategically placed beside the chained pens. Not that I would eat any of it but I enjoyed the colors and the theories they inspired. Perhaps a sugar high makes a person reckless with their finances? I've never been able to decide if the bank prefers slightly irresponsible clients or the anal retentive types who pay bills as soon as that little flag on their mailbox goes up. Interest or assured payment?

The heat outside is sweltering; despite being overcast today, as it must be for me to even be standing here, the humidity warms my skin and clings to my unruly black hair.

Walking through the double doors, I glance around and note that yes, this branch, like almost every other Mutual Trust Bank branch, has its colourful candies and, it would seem, a broken air conditioner. I sweep the room with another quick glance, looking for the perfect candidate to be my _special helper_. But my eyes, as perfect as they are, stagger over the sight of a stunning brunette. I'm quite certain I could have taken her all in with one quick look, but that seemed unceremonious.

I honestly did not know humans can look like this. I had, in the past, described humans as "mouth watering", but I meant it in the most literal of ways. Not this time. This time was lick-that-bead-of-sweat-rolling-down-between-her-breasts "delicious". Feeling confident I stride towards her, eyes locked.

_Eyes locked?_

Well, this is new. What a bizarre reaction – boredom, shock, resignation…a smirk? What a strange little human she is.

I veer away at the last moment to the clerk two desks down from hers, disconcerted and admittedly disoriented by her assessment. Shaking myself from thoughts of the brown eyed mortal Goddess, I focus on my new target. A middle aged woman whose hair is so utterly destroyed I can smell the peroxide. I struggle not to wrinkle my nose and instead grin charmingly at her. Cue the erratic heartbeat - Showtime.

"Hello dear, how may I help you?" This time I can't help but flinch, her tone is matronly but her body is throwing out signals like a lioness in heat.

I smile a little wider, showing off my pearly whites, and the winner of the Dolly Parton look-a-like contest reverts to the standards of what moral society considers 'personal space'.

"That's a very good question Dolly." Her too thin eyebrows quirk for a millisecond, otherwise uncaring of my impromptu nickname assignment, I drop my voice to whisper, "Listen closely, you are going to go get your manager and you are going to tell him whatever the magic words are to get me access to your safe. Understand?"

The glazed look never leaves her face as she nods and mechanically stalks off. That's it Dolly, be the ball, eye on the prize.

I let out a sigh, disappointed at how simple and mundane a task this has become. I miss the thrill of a true bank robbery.

I am pulled out of my reverie by the click clack of high heels. A pair of red fuck me pumps enter my peripheral vision, I follow the path up two long legs clad in a tight skirt, past a lightweight white blouse, locks of thick, dark chocolate silk escaped from her messy bun, slightly concealing pert breasts and gaze from her full lips to her doe-like bedroom eyes. Startled, I realize she is standing right in front of me. I breathe in and her scent is warm and inviting, but not overwhelming - like freesias.

Just as she opens her mouth to speak Dolly comes trotting back with the manager, a middle aged man, thin as a whip with sharp features, mousy brown hair and a pitiful looking mustache. He is frowning and right away I know Dolly has let me down. _Dammit Dolly._

"I've alerted Mr. Harrison about your position with Banks security." _Sighhhhh._

_That'll do pig, that'll do._

I hear a snicker to my right and ignore it. Now is not the time. Hmm, how shall I go about isolating our dear Mr. Harrison…

"Dolly, sod off." She nods dumbly and wanders out the front doors. That worked well. Wonder when she'll snap out of it.

Manager Mouse-stache stares after her, bewildered. One down, one to go, I turn towards Ms. Sexy Smirk and am momentarily disarmed by the mirth I find in her expression. She is absolutely _loving_ this. I wonder if she has access to the vaults. I notice her work station and decide she wouldn't have that level of authority around this dump, poor thing. Nonetheless, I think I'll keep her around. Nobody puts baby in a corner.

"Mr. Harrison, give me all the hundred dollar bills the bank has in its safes." His eyes become unfocused and he heads off to complete his task, "There's a good lad."

I turn my attention back to Sexy Smirks and once again she is not reacting the way I expect her to.

With Manager Mouse-stach busily gathering up my goods I am able to wholly focus on the enchanting creature with the expressive face. I expect her to be in shock, to sputter incoherently and stare at me with wide eyes as if she just walked in on me jerking it in a 7/11 public restroom. Instead she's smiling lazily, clearly amused. There's something behind her features though. A thoughtful look…what is she thinking about?

"Tell me what you're thinking." She flinches and then grins wider. She doesn't obey.

_What. The. Fuck. _

Well that has never happened before. I'm mid heist and I've got a rogue. Houston, we have a problem. I try again and this time she answers, but they're not the words I demanded from her.

"That's a neat little parlor trick."

Shit, shit, shit. Do I abort? Does it even count as a robbery if the manager just gives the money to me?

What is this woman?

"Thanks. It comes in handy. I think I'll head out now. You have a lovely day."

_Coward!_

"You can't go out there, the sun is out." I freeze in my tracks a few steps from the door. Jesus, she's right. I'll have to slip out the back door, I wonder if-

_Hold the phone!_ How does she know I can't go out in sunlight?

"I'm sorry?" I turn back to see her laughing. This broad is nuts.

"It's so hot out, with the clouds parted, it'll only be hotter," she lets out a very un-lady like snort, "You'll get sunburnt!" For some reason this idea is hilarious to her and she is practically doubled over in laughter - I'm not sure which concerns me more, how relaxed she is around me or her awful taste in jokes.

I respond with a very clever "of course", but inside I'm wondering if humans are really so intensely concerned with such things. Her skin is almost as pale as mine so she would know how the sun wouldn't agree with it. Right?

"You're being quite rude you know, walking out on your own bank robbery." I'm taken aback by her blunt manner. She recognized what this was then? So it does count as larceny? Fascinating.

Why is she prolonging this moment? I feel like she knows something I don't and I resist the very human like urge to fidget or throw a man tantrum - a mantrum.

"It doesn't seem fair of you to take advantage of us lowly mortals with your special abilities." She says this all in a teasing manner but I'm feeling shaken.

Employing bravado to cover up my discomfort I answer with a simple, "All in a days work."

"Oh? And how do you occupy your nights?"

I venture to reply with "Sleeping?"

She's laughing again. I had no idea I was such a comedian.

"Really? What does your bed look like?"

What a peculiar question. Is she trying to flirt? If so, she's doing an atrocious job of it. Is this question not a bit personal? I haven't owned a bed in 14 years, not since the last time I had sex. This is fucking surreal. I quickly recall what my bed did look like.

"It's a king sized feather bed with a white duvet."

She nods as if this is what she was expecting.

"And what do you dream about?"

What do I dream about? What kind of -…Oh dear God.

"I haven't had sex in 14 years."

Shit, did I just blurt that out?

She doesn't miss a beat, "Sex dreams then? And that's okay; you'll look this good in 14 more years still. You have all the time in the world to have sex."

She thinks I look good does she? I don't look a day over my physical 26 years, so it wouldn't be a stretch for her to imagine that when I am 40 I might still look half decent. But does she really believe that the last time I had sex I was a pre teen? I'm horrified that she is not perturbed by the idea of it. Is that when she first had sex? My mind is traveling various paths and at the end of them all I find myself with an elaborate plan for the murder of whatever male laid a hand on such a young girl.

"Who do you have sex with?" She looks genuinely curious.

My mind sputters and dies then explodes back to life indignantly.

"Women."

"Women like you?"

This conversation is quickly joining the ranks of my top ten of most absurd conversations ever.

"You mean like transvestites?"

She stares blankly at me.

"You're a transvestite?"

Seriously, they let this woman work in a bank? No wonder everyone's finances are so messed up.

"What? No! Just…what do you mean women like me?!"

It takes her a moment to compose herself after a small outburst of giggles, "I meant criminals."

"You're only a criminal if you've been convicted."

Again she nods knowingly and I'm too interested to feel aggravated by her cryptic behavior.

"My father was a cop."

"Is this a citizen's arrest then?"

She throws back her head and laughs. A few more strands of hair escape and I'm transfixed by the long smooth column of her neck. Irrationally I notice there are no rings on her fingers and feel relieved. She might be a complete psychopath but she is the most charming psychopath I have ever had the pleasure to meet.

"I think," She says, "that it would take far more than that to stop you." She is smiling flirtatiously but there is a challenge in her voice.

"Oh, really? And how would you get me to be…submissive?" I'm being overly suggestive and I feel foolish but she appears to be pleased with my answer. I feel as though I am being led somewhere with these questions and if I didn't know any better I would say she knows what I am and she is fucking around with me. But A) there is no way in hell she knows what I am and B) if she did, she would not be fucking around with me.

"About 3 minutes ago I pressed the button for the silent alarm."

My grin drops from my face and I'm feeling almost panicky. How didn't I notice? This woman has seen everything and there is no way for me to command her to forget. Do I leave immediately after sabotaging the security system or do I take care of her, my first and only real witness? I really, really don't want to kill her. _Really._

Daringly she steps away from her desk and walks towards me, something silver glints briefly near her sleeve.

"There are four cameras stationed around this room. Our security office is in the basement. Yes, you could get down there and grab the tapes and leave before I could even blink, but I could…distract you." I hesitate, wondering what she is offering. Briefly I think that if it is sexual in nature, I'll stick around. It would be worth it, she's gorgeous and it's been 14 bloody years. _Fourteen years. Jesus._

She takes out a menacing looking letter opener and presses it against her throat. I sober from my thoughts quickly.

"The carotid artery is one of the largest in the human body. How long would it take you?"

I'm not sure of her exact meaning but the implicit message is loud and clear: this woman is dangerous.

"How long would what take me?" I'm terrified to hear her answer.

"How long would it take you to decide whether or not to leave me to die?"

Well that certainly didn't clear anything up.

"Your eyes tell me I could trust you to try to do the right thing."

My eyes are currently a light amber. I like humans. I'm alone but I try to find appropriate outlets in which to socialize. This conversation has me on edge and at the same time, I'm exhausted. This wasn't what I was expecting from my Monday afternoon.

I run my hands through my hair and a flicker of emotion passes across her face.

The manager walks towards us, a canvas bag laden with cash gripped in his left hand, which he is dragging lazily over the hard packed carpet. She takes the bag from him and moves the letter opener to the wrist of the hand holding the bag. Her gaze is intense.

"Take me with you."

Believe it or not, this isn't the first time a woman has made this request, however I had a hard time believing this particular woman was overcome with lustful fantasies of elopement due to my irresistible charm. My automatic response is to narrow my eyes at her and flash the old Draculian grin, minus the fangs. I _know_ that right now I've never looked more like a predator. And she is…totally unfazed. How old is this woman? Her overall appearance is youthful but there is a wariness to her eyes that speaks of experience. If she is older than me, it's not by much. How the hell did this creature survive so long?!

What is more shocking than her words and her lack of self preservation is my reaction to her. I _want_ to take her with me. Let's not get ahead of ourselves, this isn't love at first sight, there is no special connection, there is only sexual attraction and morbid fascination.

Alright, it's more than that. I'm lonely as hell.

"We have 30 seconds." I shoot her a questioning look but it is answered when I begin to hear sirens in the distance.

Tentatively, I extend my hand and introduce myself, "Calvin Warren, pleasure to meet you."

I'm feeling shy now with my hand suspended in the space between us.

She takes my icy cold hand in hers and doesn't so much as bat an eyelash.

"Isabella Swan, but you can call me Bella."

**Read and Review! Also, feel free to suggest stories for me to read that have this kind of plotline, since, like I said, I love them! **


	2. In a bank far, far away

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I do not.

**I do, however, own Calvin, but I am willing to share.**

* * *

Brilliant. Brilliant idea. No easier way to keep low key with my secret than to invite my natural food source to live with me.

I hear the sirens farther away and call her bluff. She never hit the silent alarm. She smiles sweetly at me and tells me to get a move on nonetheless. I grind the security tapes into a fine powder and contemplate sneaking out without her. But I can't. I tell myself it's because she knows too much.

I walk back upstairs, careful to make as much noise as a human would, to find her running a finger over a spot on her hand. She pulls her sleeve over it just as a young man in paint splattered overalls walks in. I see the loot sitting by a heavy looking backdoor, hidden from the reception area. Now what?

"Mr. Lucas, what a pleasure to see you again. I can help you over here if you'd like." She smiles winningly at him and walks towards her desk, a faint blush covers the man's cheeks, eyes downcast but peaking at her ass occasionally. I settle down in an overly plush chair to watch the show.

Bella is completely and utterly charming and the young man, reasonably good looking for a human, fumbles and stutters his way through the transaction. I am thoroughly entertained. But more than that, I am impressed by how relaxed Bella is. I am able to remember enough of my human life to recall the jitters normally associated with a robbery. I was always good at what I did, but Bella is a natural.

A few minutes later Lucas walks out with subtlety shaking hands, cheeks a deeper shade of red and I've got a plan. I unfold myself from the armchair and walk over to Bella. I extend my hand for hers, she smirks and places her hand in my palm. For a moment I'm distracted by the heat of her.

"Bella. Will you be the Bonnie to my Clyde?" A breathtaking smile lights up her face.

"I would be honoured."

A thought enters my mind, "And what will your father think?"

Her smile falters, "He won't think anything. He's dead."

I clear my throat awkwardly, "And…and your mother?"

She pulls her hand from mine, her voice turns cold, "I haven't spoken to my mother in years. Any other personal questions you'd like to ask? Or perhaps I can ask you a few?"

Well that's one way to shut me up.

We regard each other carefully once more, each of us no doubt reconsidering our decision. Her face softens and she gestures towards the backdoor. I don't hesitate to walk over and hold it open for her, loot in hand.

Unfortunately, the roof only allows about two meters of shade out from the door and the sun is shinning brightly. Unsure of what to do I watch her step out and look up to the sky before she turns to me.

"I'll go grab my car and come round to pick you up."

I watch her walk away and in the time that she disappears around the corner to the time her car squeezes down the alleyway to the door, I think about the repercussions of what I am about to do.

I can't think of anything. I am completely ignorant of the vampire world, all I know is I'd like to keep my secret a secret. As for bloodlust…well, that has never been a problem. Not that I haven't killed before. Just never as a vampire. One life was one life too many and it haunts me still.

When she does pull up I wordlessly get in, careful not to bang the door against the wall, even if it is just a crappy little Chrysler Neon, the windows all heavily tinted. I can't wait till she sees what I've got stashed away at a private hanger outside the city.

"Where do you want to go?"

Good question.

I think about it for a minute, and feeling shy (she seems to have this affect on me) I quietly answer, "Wherever you're going."

She frowns back at me and coming to a conclusion asks, "You're alone?"

"Yes…aren't you?"

Undeterred, "How long have you been alone?"

"For some time I guess."

Jesus, she looks genuinely concerned. How is my being alone more distressing to her than her own solitude? She couldn't possibly know that ever since my creation in 1933, just the right time as a mortal to enjoy the thrill of thwarting the prohibition, I have been running about both alone and uninformed.

I have met three vampires. The first one, my creator, set me off as a newborn with his untrustworthy grin and suggestive remark that "the _Volturi_ would love you". Whatever or whoever the Volturi are, they didn't sound nice. So I told him to forget about me and sent him on his dazed way. I even spent the time to talk him into it, as I would when I was a human, I didn't realize I could just command him. The other two were a couple of red-eyed nomads who attacked me like rabid dogs. All I said was "stop" because I was curious to know about them, and when they found they had no choice, they come tearing after me. Humans I can direct like a flock of sheep, vampires, I have to focus on the individual. I threatened one with the other and, worried about revenge plots, told them the same thing I told my creator. Forget me and leave.

"Hey, perk up doll face, I got you now, remember?"

She grimaces and mutters, "Not forever."

Instead of pondering the meaning of her words, my mind sets down a new path, a path of precarious and selfish _what ifs_. The word echoes in my mind, _forever_, I associate it with myself and feel grief and loneliness, and then I associate it with Bella and feel a fragile sort of hope. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Eager to return to our playful banter I ask, "So Miss Bella, if you won't tell me your tale of woe, tell me…the name of a song you currently like?"

Eyes still trained on the road in front of her she grins, "Sympathy for the Devil by Guns N' Roses. Incidentally, it is part of the soundtrack of one of my favourite movies…"

Nice song choice. I wait for her to continue and when she doesn't I'm forced to ask which movie.

For a moment she doesn't answer, until she pulls up to a stop sign and turns her head towards me, "Interview with the Vampire."

I try carefully not to react, but despite my efforts my breathing freezes up and that signature smirk graces her features once more as though triumphant. It's like she dropped a grenade and instead of exploding it is just sitting there between us, filling the silence in its own unique way. I scramble for something neutral to say and come up empty handed. I feel like I'm losing at some game I never even knew I was playing and I have the ridiculous urge to pout.

"You know, I'm quite good at analysing physical appearances..." She delivers a kick to the grenade and I flinch, waiting for impact, _vampire,_ "I'm guessing that you are an insomniac" _What the hell?_ " And allergic to the sun?"

She glances over at me waiting for confirmation. This woman is socially retarded. I have lots of money; maybe I can buy her some therapy sessions.

She's holding in laughter and the same feeling that inspired my urge to pout flares, "Good for you, you noticed that I'm pale."

That sets her off and her honey coated laugh erupts, at least it covers up that grenade that's been rolling about. A silly little voice in my head amends, _at least she sounds happy being with you_.

Through her giggles she tells me, "You should appreciate that I have given you an excuse."

These comments are killing me.

"And what is your excuse?" I bit back, "You are nearly as pale as I am."

She sobers up, but her eyes take on that mischievous glint which bellies her sincerity, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. I'm sure you're beautiful in the sun. Your skin probably just…glitters."

If she does know then that was none too subtle.

I decide to be direct, annoyed that I can't simply command her to tell me what she knows, "Is there something you would like to say to me?"

She shoots me a coy look, her face perfectly innocent, "No, is there something _you_ would like to say to _me_?"

I rest my head back against my seat and think about this. There is a reason why I have my special talent; I believe it is a manifestation of strong trait I possessed as a human. I was once very persuasive, but with my gift I have grown lazy. I once talked bank clerks into submission, officers into looking the other way when I was caught bootlegging, nuns out of their habits - that was always fun – and the only person I ever killed was a train attendant I got in a scuffle with because he wouldn't be talked into giving me free access. Poor guy was just trying to do his job and I had to go all rebel without a cause on his ass, a life in exchange for a train ride, how shameful.

Well, let's see if I can revive an old skill, "If you don't know my secret, then let me keep it, like I will let you keep yours. If you do know it, just tell me and stop playing around. No more mind games, I'm not some toy for you to play with."

Her face contorts as if I've hit a sore spot.

"What are your intentions?" This question surprises me.

"With any luck, you will be my friend and my partner in crime." I say the last bit playfully, but I'm serious. And whatever this bitterness is, we need to get past it so we can work on being those things. I have a feeling that we'll be great at both if she'd stop being so goddamn cryptic.

She pulls over to the side of the road to give me her full attention, "So, this can be long term? I know it is too early to say whether or not you'll get sick of me, but you're not worried about…" Seeming conflicted she trails off and looks anywhere but at me.

"About?"

Her eyes lock on mine and she says something I never would have expected, a word I have not heard since the 1930's, "The Volturi."

She's acting like this word means something, but I still have no idea what it is, I stare back at her dumbly.

Her expression hardens, "Fine, pretend all you like. But tell me then, if I'm some loony who doesn't know what they're talking about, where did I get this?"

She pulls back her sleeve and I finally see what she's been hiding. A crescent shaped discoloration on her skin. I don't get the full effect until she rolls down the driver's side window and sticks her arm out, the skin dimly sparkling. Unmistakable.

I bit back an uncharacteristic growl and we sit in a tense silent for a few minutes while I absorb this information, occasionally sputtering incoherent questions.

Finally calm enough, I start the interrogation.

"Why are you not a vampire?"

"The venom was sucked out."

"By who?"

"Another vampire."

I take a moment to be simultaneously annoyed because she is being vague and overjoyed because I have someone to talk to about this now, someone who might be able to answer some questions for me.

"What, or who, are the Volturi?"

She gapes at me, incredulous, "You're serious?"

"Yes."

"Have you never met another of your kind before?"

I give her the brief rundown.

All I get in reply is a muttered, "Sucky."

"Well then, the Volturi?"

"They are vampire royalty."

Now it is my turn to gape at her, "Royalty? Where are they?"

"Italy."

"How do you know this?"

She shifts uncomfortably in her seat and remains silent.

"What are they like?"

"I don't know. I've never met them. I just know they are extremely powerful and that you don't want to piss them off."

_Shit._

"How could I piss them off?"

"By revealing yourself to a human." She quirks a finely sculpted eyebrow at me and finally I understand.

I think about this for a minute, "I'm not going anywhere, I live to break the law."

A strange expression crosses her face before she offers me a sweet smile.

I give her my best devil may care grin, "Besides, I didn't technically reveal myself to you. You already knew. How many vampires do you know anyway?"

"I _knew_ seven, and briefly met three others." The past tense doesn't escape me and I know this isn't something she wants to talk about, but holy hell it is hard not to ask - that is a lot of vampires.

Finally I think to question her motive, "So what is it you want from me?"

"What do you mean?" She looks truly puzzled. I'm relieved I haven't offended her.

"Do you want me to change you?"

Her eyes widen and it is her turn to sputter incoherently, "No! I lost my reason for forever a long time ago... How can you ask me that so casually?"

I think about it, I really have no qualms about what I am. As far as I'm concerned I did worse things as a human and for someone to have the knowledge that they could live forever, and not give him or her the option, it seems cruel. Then again, there are certainly downsides.

I settle on, "It's your choice."

Oh dear God, she looks like someone just ran over her cat. Is that a tear? Why is she crying? I am not equipped to handle this!

Feeling awkward I reach over to pat her back gently, but that just seems to make it worse. After a few minutes of this I give up and do what feels right, regardless of whether or not it is too soon. I unbuckle her seat belt and gently pull her over into my lap and hold her against me. I try rocking her softly, stroking her hair and whispering soothing words, lips pressed to her hair over her ear. I try not to think about how nice she smells or how right this feels. I can't even bring myself to think lewd thoughts. Jesus, I hope I haven't grown a vagina.

When she finally quiets down she peeks up at me from under thick, long lashes, a rueful smile on her face. So fucking cute. She starts blushing and it's just…cuteness overload, I can't even handle it. With that face, even her stilettos look cute on her now. Dammit.

She crawls back into her seat while I fight my body's reaction to her jostling and we stay parked there, talking awhile longer until I have finally come to a conclusion about how this is all going to play out.

"So, you want me to fall into companionate love with you and you're planning on one day dying. How does that work for me?"

"Come on, it's not that crazy. People get attached to pets all the time knowing full well they'll probably outlive them." Her tone is flippant and I regard her with a bewildered expression.

"…I'm sorry, for a minute there it sounded like you were comparing yourself to Lassie."

She rolls her doe eyes, letting out an exasperated huff, "Is it a worse idea than being lonely?"

"Maybe."

She scowled at me but I could see the smile pulling at her lips.

"Ok. So…how do we do this? I think as far as friendships go, this is not the traditional start." I thought about that for a moment, "Except maybe in situations where Stockholm syndrome is involved…" I nodded my head in satisfaction and her grin finally broke through.

"Tell me about yourself."

"Like what?"

"Well…you have a very special gift. How does it work?"

I think I may have grimaced a little, "It can make things quite dull, certainly much less spontaneous. With humans, I can direct a group like a flock of sheep. I have to think of what I am saying as a command and they just sort of do it, like robots. Afterwards they have no clue what happened, or maybe just a very vague idea. I'm not sure. With vampires, it seems I can only direct one at a time, and they're much more conscious of it."

She thought about this for a moment, sympathetic yet impressed, "Control could be dull. And don't feel bad about your gift not working on me. I'm a mother fucking fortress of solitude up here." She rapped her knuckles against her head, smiling playfully.

"Pretty obvious you're the exception eh? Did the ones you know have gifts?" My creator had been a scientist formally and had the gift to weakly manipulate the effects of sunlight. It was more entertaining than practical. In any case, I knew it wasn't unusual for some vampires to have their own unique "skill".

She shifted uncomfortably, "Three of seven I knew did. One could manipulate emotions, another…" she shifted again, frowning, "…Alice…she could see the future and…the…other one…could read minds. As for the three that I met briefly, one of them was a tracker. The tracker gave me this scar."

Wow. Those are some pretty formidable gifts. It was obvious she felt particularly affectionate of Alice, seeming displeased to leave her unrecognized, and especially uncomfortable about the mind reader. I dare not ask why, so I asked something else instead. One day she might tell me what her deal is.

"Why did he bite you?"

She looked me dead in the eye and replied, "He was hungry."

_Oh. Yes, of course. He was hungry, why not? _I resisted the urge to roll me eyes. This chick is a trip.

"Aren't you worried I'm going to do the same?"

"The tracker had red eyes. You don't." She didn't need to say more.

"Were you…friends with the coven of seven?" It felt so weird to say coven. My life was so agonizingly average for a vampire; words like "coven" just didn't seem to fit.

"Yes." She was silent for a moment, contemplating, "If you don't mind me asking, when were you born?"

"Born into this life or born from my mother?"

"Both."

"I was born in 1907 and changed in 1933."

"Jesus, you've been alone for almost a century?"

"That's right."

"What have you been doing?"

I cracked a smile, "Much the same thing as I did when I was human. Robbing banks and raising hell."

_*****_

_Buck Wilder was my mentor, and my father for all intents and purposes. Met him two years after the prohibition started. I was 14 years old and a small-time rumrunner in Beantown. He was an Irish immigrant, a coarse sort of fellow but sly as a fox. He ran one of the most successful Speakeasies in all of Suffolk County, great meals if the pigs were around and even finer contraband if they weren't. I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame, nobody gave praise like Buck, but he wasn't one to give it out freely, so when he fondly accepted me into his crew, there was nothing to do but say thanks. Yes, I suffered from a mighty case of idol worship._

_As for my real pop, he was a Puritan and a leather tanner – a nasty combination for a father. He died four days before my seventh birthday, no doubt a victim of the chemicals of his profession. My mother, bless her soul, was a small, timid woman who worked as a seamstress. Sweetest woman you ever met, but she could give a tongue lashing like none other. More than once I went to bed with my tail tucked between my legs and my ears burning red with shame. _

_Things were tough for Boston in the early 1900's, the factories were old and crumbling and companies were moving elsewhere, seeking cheaper labor as they often do. In fact, things didn't get much better for awhile, long after I'd been changed I learned my ma, a little old lady at the time, had been kicked out of the tiny apartment I grew up in. Apparently the town decided to do a little "urban renewal". Well, she received an anonymous envelope fat with Jacksons and even a few Grants, set her up real nice - that is, once she realized there was no way she could locate where it came from. _

_Ironic that a natural born criminal the likes of me came from two of the most honest people in Greater Boston. But like the Real McCoy, I earned a shiny reputation for the quality of my giggle water - same as him I never watered down a single batch. Instead I talked down prices better than anyone Buck had ever met and he learned quickly that I could turn that little power on him, talk him into paying a mighty cent higher. _

_By the time I turned 16 we were partners. Only some gumshoe had to sniff around where he don't belong and Buck was up to his suspenders in bribe payments, trying to keep his hairy red ass out of the big house. We had to axe half our crew and lost a hell of a lot of business. One night after closing we were sitting around in the parlor, playing cards and having a bull session, when the rookie, Danny, threw out one of his half-baked ideas. _

"_Well, Buck. There's only one thing to do." He said, "You gotta rob a bank."_

_Of course that earned him a cuff from Buck, but I started to think about it. _

"_That's not a bad idea, Big Cheese." I said._

_Old Buck turned his beady eyes on me and asked, "Son, did you get into the coffin varnish again?"_

"_No, sir."_

_He stared at me a moment longer before considering it, "Hmm, a caper, eh…we should know one's onions before you boys ankle in there. You'll be no help at all if you're on the lam."_

_I grinned at him, "You know I'm real slippery, no copper will ever get his paws on this cake-eater."_

"_A cake-eater now are we? And who's the skirt?"_

_Danny grumbled, "Hope it isn't another nun…"_

_Just like that we got back to our bull session, but a couple weeks later and the rookie and I pulled it off. We skipped down to Providence to avoid local suspicion, wearing masks and packing heat. Danny and I were good, maybe a little too good and by the time I was 23 I had switch professions. Buck joined us, he was sick of paying hush money and they always wanted more. We tore across Northern U.S., each city we came to we left just as quickly, only with our pockets a little heavier. We probably would have gained a lot more notoriety if anyone were able to identify us, if we killed anybody or if we stayed in a state long enough for a cop to really take notice. _

_I visited my ma once in awhile and play the role of the good son. But most of the time, as Buck would say, we were robbing banks and raisin' hell._

_*****_

"Boy, am I glad you walked into my bank. So how did you end up getting changed?"

"I'm sure you know our hearing is supernatural?" She nodded in understanding; "I was in a pawn shop one day and caught the attention of a passerby. He followed us to our next job and decided I could be extremely useful."

"So what happened to Buck and Danny?"

"Buck retired after I disappeared, bought a swanky house and married a girl who called him her 'sugar daddy'." I couldn't help but laugh thinking about it, "As for Danny, he opened up his own tavern, picked up a few tricks from Buck and I so he was real successful."

Bella smiled contentedly, as if hearing the happy ending to a suspenseful tale, "If you've been on your own and robbing banks for close to a century, shouldn't you be rich enough that you don't need to anymore?"

"I am rich, I'm just bored, and a little loose with my pocket change if you know what I am."

"What's your vice? Cars, houses?"

"I have a few houses around the globe. But listen, let's head to your place, pack up whatever you need and head to Sea-Tac. Then I'll show you my vice."

* * *

**Well? What do you think so far?**


	3. Deep in the forest

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I do not.

Bella led me into her tiny apartment, looking unsure of herself. As she searched about in the dark for the light switch I starred unabashedly at her ass, knowing she couldn't see and catch me doing it. I didn't even realize I had been following her until she stumbled back into my chest, coming into delicious contact with a suddenly harder part of my body. At the same moment her fingers grazed the switch and the lights came on.

Still pressed to me, she peeked up, over her shoulder at me, and said, "It's…it's small."

"What? It is not!" Indignant, I thoughtlessly thrust forward against her to prove my point.

And then I realized she was talking about the apartment.

Shocked into silence, she starred wide-eyed up at me before she broke out in raucous laughter.

And there goes 3.7% of my pride.

I watched as Bella searched around her apartment, through various purses and bags, through her bathroom cupboards. Every so often a giggle would escape her, no doubt reliving my moment of shame. Annoyed with her hair falling into her face, she grabbed a stray pencil and twirled her hair up with it. I would have asked what she was looking for and if she wanted help, but it was much more fun to watch her. Finally, riffling through the pockets of a coat she triumphantly pulled out a pair of wire framed glasses. She wandered back towards the bathroom and after a minute I followed, just in time to see her throw her contact holder into her bag before pulling on her glasses.

Good lord. Hello naughty librarian.

She noticed me standing behind her, watching her in the mirror in a daze.

"You're totally getting off on this aren't you?"

Unrepentant I grinned back at her. She answered my enthusiasm with a warm little smile.

For the next half hour she flittered about, collecting various items, clothing and family pictures mostly, a few cherished books, judging by their very used condition, while I kept surveillance for when the cops would come. And they would, eventually.

I was sitting on the couch, lost in my task of listening for footsteps or any sign of a detective when a pair of long, jean clad legs stepped in front of me, I looked up to see Bella chewing on her lip shyly, starring down into my eyes as if searching for something, brows furrowed.

"I'm not going anywhere without you."

I don't know why I said it, whether it was a threat, a reassurance or a submission to her will, but I said it and the moment it issued forth from my lips I knew I meant it. I might not kidnap her, but I wasn't about to walk out. She seemed reassured and we made our way out of her apartment. I expected her to be sad or reluctant to leave what had been her home, but she didn't spare a moment's glance behind her as she closed the door, locking it more out of habit than necessity or a sense of possession.

"Can we go to your place? I'm sorry, but I need to sleep. The cops won't know anything about you to know to go looking there, right?"

"Except for a hazy physical description, no, they won't. But I don't have a bed. Just a sofa."

She snickered, "What? No white duvet? No featherbed?"

"Hardy har har, you had fun playing with me didn't you, you harlot?"

I directed her to my house and she turned the air conditioning on in her car. I was reminded that my place has no such thing. She wants to sleep and I have no bed. It's hot as hell and I have no air conditioner. Already her presence in my life was illuminating my shortcomings in my human charade.

We were on the outskirts of Seattle now, winding through darkness and forest until we found my driveway and ventured further into the wilderness. My Seattle dwelling is especially unusual, like a mansion masquerading as a cottage. I possess great wealth but little need, much time and no company. As a result, my house is a strange creation - a converted, centuries old, stone barn, lavish yet rustic. Vines and pane glass windows decorate the outside. Two sprawling floors, the bottom taken up by a large indoor pool and the top housing my apartment, equally rustic as the outside, consisting mainly of polished woods, worn leather furniture and great fireplaces.

I expected her to be nervous, now that we were here and isolated. Instead she turned and offered me an approving grin before she hopped out and grabbed her bag, dashing towards the door as quickly as she could. Smiling I ran out, overcame her and met her at the door where I beckoned her in like any good host. I realized she was the first guest I had ever had here and she had given me her approval before I even knew that I would ask for it.

Her sigh of relief when she saw the pool encouraged a chuckle from me, which caught in my throat when she hastily dropped her bag and stripped down to her underwear before diving in. Exquisite. Her body was slender but toned, long muscles and creamy skin. She had many scars on her body but it didn't detract from her beauty, it merely added another dimension of intrigue. The distortion of the water was no match for my eyesight. The scars on her knees and elbows suggested she was quite prone to accidents, but they were not the ones that caught my attention, instead it was the scars along her lower abdomen and the circular scar on her shoulder, just below her collarbone. I marveled at her lack of insecurity about such marks. I respect her confidence. Even if she weren't beautiful, her sense of self worth would have made her one of the most stunning creatures I had ever laid eyes on.

I kept my distance, a need to cool off that was unlike her own. While she swam I put the money in the safe, retrieved a towel for her and contemplated what else would need to change in order to accommodate Bella's needs. She would need a bed, food, perhaps an air conditioner, considering the heat wave sweeping through the U.S. Would we leave Seattle now? She didn't bring much with her in terms of clothes. Her car sucks.

I wonder if she realizes that she can have anything she wants now?

But she doesn't strike me as the kind to ask, or even want, for any material luxuries. I get the feeling that the things Bella wants most is some excitement and companionship, which is so very like myself. Maybe I am better at being human than I thought.

I watch her emerge from the pool, transfixed by the rivulets of water that cascade down her lithe body. I wonder if women practice the art of this little performance? This way of coming out of water that is so tantalizingly sexy, sleek hair and emphasized breasts, so feminine and strong. It takes me a moment to remember myself and offer her the towel. Her smirk tells me she noticed.

I led her upstairs to my apartment and gave her the grand tour. I could tell by her reactions which rooms were her favorites. Particularly, my extensive library of books, music and movies and a sitting room which housed a couple of instruments, a painter's easel and a wall of mirrors to make the room seem bigger and brighter. My kitchen and 'bedroom' were pathetic places. My favorite room was my entertainment room, complete with a home theater and surround sound and my living room, a cozy room filled with couches and a fireplace. If I remember correctly, one is an uncomfortable pull out couch, lumpy and neglected but suitable for one night.

Finally I showed her to the bathroom so she could change. Besides my kitchen, it was my one other human room. I figured if I ever had visitors, I could get away with not owning a bed temporarily, but not having installed toilets or the bare minimal kitchen utilities would be suspicious. I heard the shower switch on and minutes later my senses were accosted with the smell of wild strawberries.

Fifteen minutes later Bella emerged, vibrant and slightly flushed from her shower, dressed in a short silk night slip, fairly conservative considering the heat but exposing enough flesh that I said a little prayer. I had prepared the pull out to the best of my abilities and Bella seemed pleasantly surprised.

"Don't look so relieved, it's incredibly uncomfortable." I warned.

"Yes, but it will make what I am about to ask much more possible." Bella fidgeted nervously.

I waited patiently for her to work up her nerve for whatever she needed to ask. I knew it wouldn't be sexual, we had come to an agreement in the car that it would make getting to know each other awkward, neither of us desiring a serious relationship.

Finally she extended a hand towards me from the opposite side of the bed; she crawled onto the mattress, reaching for me until I understood. Gradually I kneeled onto the bed and carefully laid myself beside her, starring up at the ceiling like she was, not daring to move or touch her more than our entwined hands unless she initiated it. Even then I would be hesitant.

Softly she spoke, "I grew up in Phoenix. But after I moved to Washington, I never could sleep when I was overheated."

Understanding came. Who needs air conditioning when you have a frigid vampire at your disposal? Chuckling, I scooped her up into my arms and laid her gently against me, slightly on top, the tension broken by comprehension. The way she curled her body around mine spoke of gratitude and affection. I tightened my arms around her, conveying the same message, thankful for her coming into my life at a time when I was floundering in solitude. Within minutes she was asleep, her breathing deep and even and heartbeat steady.

For the first few hours I indulged in the physical presence of my new, precious friend. Her silky legs were curled amongst my own, her cheek pressed to my shoulder and an arm strewn across my waist. Around three o'clock I grew restless but was once again immersed in the novelty of sleep when Bella started to mumble softly. Not many words were decipherable, even with my hearing. I heard the words, 'hot', 'swim', 'hair' and 'handsome'.

An hour later her dreams shifted to something darker. She squirmed against me as if struggling, a hand reaching down to clutch at her lower abdomen and a weak 'Jake don't' escaping her lips. I smoothed a hand down her back only to have my fingers tangle gently in her soft mahogany curls, and found that she quickly calmed down while I played with her hair. I squelched my curiosity on the subject of her nightmares, deciding that if she wanted to talk about it, she would.

As dawn broke through, my boredom returned. I contemplated Bella's desire to remain human, her mysterious past and her future career as a bank robber.

She expressed a desire to attempt a solo robbery, but I was nervous. She is so breakable, so fragile and human. What if she chose a bank that had armed security? I can definitely see an independent streak in her; no doubt she would be stubborn about her choice. I guess I could go in before her and command the security guard to stand completely still so he wouldn't react when she came in. That way there would be less of a risk to her. We could rendezvous somewhere afterwards and – oh, she's waking up. About time, I'm so fucking bored, how am I to -…

"Calvin?"

"Huh?"

"You okay?"

"Y-yeah. Sorry, yeah…"

No. I'm not okay.

I can't believe I almost missed that.

I've been alone with my thoughts for close to a century and still I lose myself in them. I was almost so lost that I just about missed the most beautiful thing I may have ever seen. No one has ever looked at me like that before.

Unbidden my fingers went to the source of my delight; rosy, sweet lips, soft and warm beneath my fingertips. That smile said so much more than good morning. It was a good morning that echoed with 'because you're here'. I must never miss it again.

Suddenly the night didn't seem like such a waste.

I tried to erase the look of awe on my face, seeing her growing uncomfortable under my scrutiny.

She cleared her throat and rolled away from me; restless though I had been I longed for the warmth of her sleeping form beside me once more. Maybe when we become more comfortable together, we could spend a morning lolling about in bed lazily. I guiltily watched her stretch, easing the kinks out of her muscles and vowed to buy her that king sized feather bed once we settled wherever it was she wanted to go. I wondered if she was interested in traveling abroad, if she had studied in any foreign languages. I really need to learn more about this woman. I quickly changed into some cargo shorts and a t-shirt and waited for her by the staircase.

Minutes later she was ready, proving what I already knew, she wasn't high maintenance, she was wearing a pair of shorts and a tank top, but was once again in a pair of heels. If not for her heels, her clean face and high ponytail would have made her appear alarmingly youthful. I quirked an eyebrow at her strange choice of foot wear in question.

"I learned to walk in them awhile ago as a sort of…tribute to an old friend with a shopping addiction. After sometime you get used to them, "She hesitated for a moment, a small grin forming, "and they're oddly empowering."

I pumped a fist into their air and faking cheerleader enthusiasm and a British accent said, "Girl power!"

Bella giggled and grabbed my hand, pulling me out of the apartment and down the stairs to the outside. I promised her breakfast and she had decided on an IHOP.

An hour later we were seated in a booth, a plate piled high with pancakes sitting in front of Bella. Keeping this platonic was going to be a slight challenge. I had already developed some feelings of admiration and protectiveness for Bella, which encouraged keeping a respectful distance. But every time she flexed those legs in her shorts and licked a smudge of whipped cream from the corner of her lip she screamed sex.

I'm almost certain that I have put myself in the selfish position of feeling okay with keeping this on a level of friendship, but if any other man enters the picture, I have no doubts that I would struggle with jealousy. I have always been pretty laid back; I think I could keep it under control…

I discreetly watched her eat, fascinated but hesitant to make her shy about eating in front of me.

"So, what's your favorite food?"

My eyes shot to her in alarm. Was she kidding?

"I don't eat."

"Yes, you do. Come on, what is it? Bear? Cougar? Elk?"

Jesus, she wasn't kidding. I tried to match her nonchalant attitude, but this, this talking openly about what I am, is something I'll have to get used to.

"Wolf."

She froze for a minute, the color leaving her face and swallowed hard. How in the bloody hell could I have answered _that _question incorrectly?

"Are you alright?" I asked.

She cleared her throat and nodded.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. I rarely ever go after them, truly. Most of the time I settle for elk." I waited a moment more, thinking about how I could salvage our first morning, "I'm very careful about monitoring my hunting activities. After all, it's in my best interest to make sure their population doesn't deplete."

"Calvin, don't be sorry, I was just caught off guard."

She shifted in her seat, looking sheepish.

"What's your favorite food?"

Maybe I'd learn how to cook…

We talked through the rest of breakfast, laughing and teasing. She even convinced me to eat a strawberry, though it didn't smell as nice as Bella and it tasted awful. We actually talked a bit more about my diet, isolated in our booth as we were, and the more disgusting flavors I've tried, like fish for example. She laughed at my dramatic retelling. I told her that while she smells fantastic, and she does, it is subtle enough that it doesn't tempt me anymore than anyone else's blood. I had tested my self-control a lot over the decades; in fact, I worked in a hospital for a couple of years. I am not academically inclined, but medicine appealed to me in a sort of morbid way.

I paid the bill, ignoring Bella's protests; in fact I may have playfully put my palm over her face and pushed her away from the waiter at the cashier. As we walked out I reminded her that it wasn't hard earned cash.

On the drive back I was forced to stop and run into the forest to rid my stomach of the small, offensive fruit.

Back at my- our place, we discussed what to do next, settling onto a couch together. I still wanted to show her the private hanger at Sea-Tac. We talked about going to Mount Wai-'ale'ale, London, Crkvica in Bosnia, British Colombia, Newfoundland and every other rainy, foggy, vampire friendly place we could think of. Eventually Bella suggested we pull a Noah's Ark and live on the high seas so I changed the subject.

Bella's things were still packed up so she waited with a book while I grabbed a few of my own personal articles. I had decided where we could go and refused to tell Bella, no matter how much she pleaded. I learned that Bella hates surprises.

I decided to hunt before we left. I made a quick trip into Wenatchee National Forest, but found myself annoyed by my hunger needs and bothered by the silence of the solo hunt. I was quick to take down a small heard of deer and even quicker to run home, where, for once, someone waited for me.

From outside I could hear music. Bella was playing the piano. I recognized the tune as 'Lean on Me'. I had a distinctly female moment where, feeling almost giddy, I interpreted her choice of song as a song meant for her and me specifically. Lame, I know. I rushed to join her on the guitar, but I didn't miss the tortured expression on her face as she played. Of course when she saw me she was quick to put the mask back on, but as we played a few more tunes, her expression became one of genuine contentment. Sometime mid-afternoon we stopped.

"How long have you been playing?" I asked, curious as to her expression.

"A few years. I learned because I thought it would be relaxing."

"Isn't it?"

"No."

"Then why do you still play?"

"So I don't forget."

She remained silent. This woman is the Fort Knox of secrets.

Bella glanced from her piano to my guitar speculatively, "Can you teach me how to play that?"

"Of course."

So I grabbed the guitar and we left the piano behind.


	4. In a private hanger in a strange city

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I do not.**

* * *

_SEA-TAC Private Hanger_

We rolled up to the hanger in the Neon and I vowed that would be the last time it would be driven by either of us. I looked at Bella, tried to think of what ride would suit her. She's so fucking pretty, far too warm to be considered beautiful, with her big doe eyes, an all American girl; she could have been the girl next door. I briefly lose myself in the fantasy of having grown up with her, like a real human boy, watching her become a real human woman. I think she could handle a lot of torque, something muscular and rugged.

"So Bella, if you were a car, what would you be?" I ask.

She grins back, "I don't know. But if _you_ were a car, you'd be a 1967 Shelby."

"Funny, I was just thinking you could probably handle riding a mustang." I give her my best devil may care grin and have to catch her when she stumbles, although, it's not so much an obligation to catch her, having her pressed up against me like this. She stares up at me from under her eyelashes, looking very un-Bambi like. A delicious scent fills my nose and I inhale deep. Sex smells fantastic, this, this smelled infinitely better. I knew why. Because it was goddamn Molotov cocktail of blood and sex, if I were a lesser man the scent would have the lovely creature in my arms drained within seconds. A source of self-pride is my control, but caught up in the erotic thrills of my companion, I found myself unprepared.

So I froze. If I even twitch, my body might take that as permission to attack. So I stand utterly, helplessly still as Bella slips from my arms and runs into the hanger, recovered from her bout of wantonness and once again playful.

"Let's see what you've got Cal!"

Well, I'm not entirely sure at the moment, but I can take a guess.

Cars, luxury, classic, sport, muscle, concept, and motorcycles, trucks, a helicopter, a private jet (which I have not yet mastered), an RV, multiple ATVs, a yacht and a dead body.

As the fog of the bloodlust clears I realize I have not heard Bella scream, maybe she's hasn't discovered it yet. Hesitantly I follow her inside.

I'm alarmed when I see her crumpled beside the body. The scene is gory and surreal.

"Bella? Are you okay? I swear I didn't know-" I stop abruptly when I realize that she is not overcome by shock and grief. Instead she is systematically checking over the body which I now see is a young man.

"Tell me you didn't do this." She says to me when she finally looks up. I assess the body, there is a gruesome gunshot wound to the side of the man's head and a gun limply clutched in his hand. The area to the left of the body is real messy.

"I didn't do it. I think, well, I think he did it." Wow. I'm real rusty on the whole sensitivity thing.

She turns back to the body but I can tell that she's not really seeing it. Her expression is pensive. She pulls a Kleenex from her purse and uses it to examine the man's left hand, the one not holding the gun, turning it this way and that. She reaches over to the hand holding the gun and gently removes the weapon to see the palm.

"I'm not thrilled to have the cops come here, but I do think we should leave it alone. Let's call them and get out of here. We don't want to tamper with the crime scene." For one monstrous moment I mourn the loss of my collection.

"It wasn't a suicide." Bella says.

I'm taken aback by this, "Gunshot in head, gun in hand, right hand, right side of head, what part of this isn't adding up for you, sweetheart?"

"He's left-handed."

Oh.

The criminal side of me becomes suspicious, "Sounds like cop speak to me."

She sighs, "I am not, nor have I ever been, a member of the police force or any other government agency."

Even though I wasn't correct in my suspicion, the way she answers the question makes me think it was still the right question to ask.

We settle into a thoughtful silence.

"You seen a lot of dead bodies before?" I ask.

She stands up, "We should call the police."

I reach into my pocket for my cell phone and dial 911, it takes a moment to relay the scene and the location then I hang up.

"How old do you think he is?" She asks quietly.

I look down at the man. He has dyed blonde hair, tan skin and he's unusually, almost unnaturally, muscular. He's also almost as tall as I am.

"He is 17 years old, 6"2 and 240 pounds." I may have noticed a few other things as well.

Using the Kleenex I carefully reassemble the gun and the hand to look exactly as it had when we arrived.

"He doesn't smell very good." I remark.

"Well, he's dead."

"I'd say he's been dead for over a week, and with this heat wave, that could definitely be enough to say he doesn't smell like roses. But there's this other smell to him and it is rank."

"Maybe he messed himself when the gun was pointed at him, can't fault a man for fearing death." Her eyes flicker towards me.

"No, it's not that either. I think he might've been rolling around with some dogs recently."

Bella's face snapped towards me, "Are you saying he smells like wet dog?"

"Well…Yeah."

She hastily reached towards his hair and smoothes it back, revealing the roots, a dark chestnut brown.

"Let's go." She barks, clasps my hand and drags me towards the doors.

Morosely I look back at everything I won't be able to see ever again, or at the very least, for a long while.

The hanger was divided into three parts. The first of which was the section housing my cars and motorcycles. I have two sports cars, the Bugatti Veyron and Koenigsegg CCX, two novelty cars, the 1937 Mercedes-Benz 540K Special Roadster and the 1961 Ferrari 250 GT SWB California Spyder, both of which cost me an arm and a leg, and one environmentally friendly concept car – the Audi R8 e-Tron, but for the most part I have classic muscle cars - Cameros, Chevelles, Barracudas, Hemi Cudas, Mustangs, Shelbys.

I also own a couple of vintage trucks, my favourite of which is a red1948 Ford Pickup Truck. Certainly not the most expensive or fastest vehicle in my inventory, but a favourite nonetheless, it possessed a simple charm, unassuming and reliable. I saw it sitting at the end of a country lane with a For Sale sign, rusted and rundown. I bought it that same day and it was the only vehicle I have ever restored myself. It is more special to me than any vehicle I have ever owned, it had sentimental value. And I'd have to leave it behind.

Not to mention the next section, which we hadn't even opened up, where the private jet, helicopter, RV and ATVs were stationed. And finally the last section, accessed by an unassuming steel door, the third section is a massive open room, a variable nautical cathedral, featuring one thing, and only one thing - a yacht, or, more specifically, a Ferretti 881. Noah's Ark. I had really wanted to show it to her; we could have a life on the high seas.

But no. Now the cops were going to come, and while all the vehicles were registered and legal, I could not risk the publicity. They might clear everything out as evidence and I might be suspect numero uno. There are too many variables.

But I'll be damned if I get back into that neon.

I pulled Bella back from her path towards the doors and manhandled her into the Ford pick up truck after she stopped upon seeing it. I tore the license plate from the truck and hoped into the driver's seat.

I can hear the sirens in the distance.

"Buckle up, babe." But she's still frozen. Impatiently I reach across to strap her in. I wonder if the shock has finally set in. And because I'm a man and a brute I let my knuckles slide over the soft skin of her thighs, thinking how much I want to bury myself between them.

"We need to go to Forks." She finally says.

Forks. Forks…Forks?

"You mean that little nothing of a town near the coast?"

"It may be small and inconsequential, but it's filled with things that are definitely not "nothing."" She snaps.

"If you say so." I reply dubiously, "Why are we going there?"

"Because that's where he's from." I can feel her eyes on me, can almost feel my own lips tingling as she worries at hers with her teeth. I could care less about the body, but I am extremely fascinated by Bella's interest in the matter.

An hour later we were on the road to Forks.

Fucking Forks.

As we pass the "Welcome to Forks" sign Bella quietly informs me that she owns a house not far from the border. I follow her instructions and find myself parked in front of a two story house with white vinyl siding, double-hung windows and no shutters. The door is painted bright blue, contrasting with the dreary, rainy climate. I would have settled in a place like this had I known girls as pretty as Bella would be here.

We both get out from the truck. The lawn is overgrown and the garden is full of weeds. There was no trace of her scent. She hadn't been here in awhile.

"I tried to sell it, but, as you can imagine, the real estate market in Forks isn't very active." She explains. She's standing on the gravel of the driveway, shifting from foot to foot and looking up at the house uneasily, like it's going to come alive and chase her down the street. It doesn't look so threatening to me so I grab her hand and tug her towards the door.

It's midday so I'm almost as alarmed as Bella when a wolf howls in the distance. Her eyes go animatedly round and now it's her rushing me into the house.

"Whoa, slow down there, it's just a wolf darlin', nothing I can't handle." But she's not even listening to me, once inside she releases her grip on me and paces in the living room, muttering "they know we're here" and "okay, so it's sooner than I expected but", most of it is scarcely audible.

Crazy.

A moment later a body comes crashing through the back door, and if I were human I would have missed the moment the man slammed into the side of the staircase and ran at us, transforming into a monstrous hairy beast.

The words "holy fuck" escapes my mouth before I'm thrown through the glass window that faces the backyard. It's only my fear for Bella that has me up and launching a counterattack before the momentum backwards has settled.

On top of that fear is anger.

Hey, nobody likes being thrown through a window.

As I hurtled my body back through the window I registered the starring match going on between the beast and the girl. She's shivering violently but she's not backing down.

She sees me a second before the wolf does and as I launch myself onto the beast's back I hear her scream "Calvin no!"

It's been awhile since I engaged in physical combat but my muscles react on an instinct ingrained in me since humanity. I was raised a natural-born brawler and thief.

It is split seconds of movement that keep me away from the animal's frantically snapping jaws.

Why grandma, what big teeth you have.

It's stronger than anything I have ever encountered. But I'm stronger still. We crush a number of cabinets and I'm relieved by Bella's presence of mind to stay out of the way.

I feel like Crocodile Dundee riding on the back of this thing but I hold fast, strangling the air from it. Its mouth ceases to close and panting fills the room. The smell keeps me from biting. Finally it collapses to the ground and Bella rushes in, looking as Bambi-eyed as ever.

"Let him breath!" She screeches. I loosen my grip but keep it pinned to the floor while it resumes struggling, snapping and growling.

My mind is racing, I know what I saw but I can't believe it.

Bella lays on her belly beside it, far out of it's reach but close enough to catch its eye, her cheek is pressed to the tile and her eyes are filled with tears, but her voice is steady, "Jacob, phase back."

The wolf's liquid black eyes flickered from Bella's face to mine, assessing me from the corner of its eye. It looked back at Bella and like a human its eyes softened and the growling stopped. I could feel it vibrating erratically beneath me so I jumped off its back but kept a firm hand on its neck, keeping its face pushed against the ground. It shrunk beneath my palm into the neck of a naked human man.

6"3, 237 lbs.

I heard Bella release a sigh as she lifted herself off the ground.

"You can let go Calvin." She whispered. I trusted that she knew more of this beast than I so I moved away. Instead I stood near Bella and pushed her behind my back. I was surprised when she moved willingly and pressed her face into the space between my shoulders, breathing deeply, her hands fisting into the fabric at my lower back.

The man rose quickly, unconscious of his nudity. He glared at me but there was an apprehensive feeling about him.

"Bella?" He called softly. My muscles tensed up and Bella moved a hand beneath my shirt, to the skin of my back, as if to reassure herself of my presence or to calm me down. The heat of her palm seared my skin, but I was not distracted from the threat. I glared right back. He focused on the space beside me, willing his eyes to see Bella where she wasn't.

"Bella, I'm sorry," He pleaded gently, "I shouldn't have phased, that was thoughtless of me. Please, come out."

"Whoa, hold on there soldier. No need to subject the lady to this crass display." I looked towards the hall for his clothes, but all that was left were scraps of denim and black cotton.

With an exasperated sigh I brought my hands to the hem of my t-shirt and pulled it over my head, slow enough that Bella had time to move away from me. I tossed it towards him and flinched when he moved it to cover his junk. It may have been plain white, but it had been one of my favorites.

"You can keep it." I muttered. I pulled at the band of my jeans; they rode almost indecently low on my hips.

Bella giggled behind me and my shoulders lowered, relaxing at the sound of her easy good humor. I didn't imagine Bella was easily scared, and thank God for that because I didn't like seeing it. Her laughter cut off though and my smile froze when I felt the hand that had been resting against my lower back tentatively run up to my shoulder, joined a second later by her other hand. A shiver ran up the length of my spine and before she could blink I was turned towards her and capturing her hands against my bare chest.

I lowered my face until it was an inch from hers, "Now is not the time." I said quietly, my voice uncontrollably intense, then I was almost speaking against her lips, "But I will have you."

Two fucking days. That's how long I could hold to our no-sex pact.

Her eyes were wide with shock but understanding flickered in their depths, she nodded once and then she stepped around me to face her fears.

"This is Calvin, he's safe." She told him. I wasn't so sure about that. I turned to gauge his expression and found him taking in her appearance. She had changed while I'd been hunting, adding an oversized sweater to her ensemble. Her legs in her cut-off shorts could give Daisy Duke a run for her money. She had removed her heeled boots and was bare footed. She looked sinfully sweet and she didn't even know it. The man's gaze was appreciative but without lust. A ring glinted on one of his hands. He may have been a man, but he was a married man.

Bella was conscious of it and moved towards the fridge, feigning nonchalance. She opened it and I was surprised to see that it was both turned on and somewhat stocked. She pulled a beer from the top shelf and used the bottom of her sweatshirt to twist of the cap. The man looked at me and nodded in the universal sign of acknowledging a worthy opponent. I had to nod back, morphing into a wolf is pretty kick ass.

"You change into anything else?" I asked.

"No." His reply was gruff.

We lapsed back into awkward silence and Bella moved towards the collapsed kitchen table, righting a chair and curling up on it. She refused to meet either of our eyes and stared intently at her beer.

"Angela said you called, asked her to prepare the house for you. What are you doing back here?" He asked her, his question not particularly welcoming.

She ignored his question and a few minutes lapsed as he shifted from foot to foot. Something about Bella unnerved him.

"You missing a pack member?" She asked finally, her voice soft. She was going to stare a hole through that bottle.

His head snapped towards me, speculating and suspicious, "We might be. How come?"

"Jacob, look at me." She commanded and reluctantly he did, she finally looked at him and her expression held the compassion that her words lacked, "He's dead. Neither of us had anything to do with it."

I tried to follow along, the words "pack" registering as well as the fact that the young man from my hanger had apparently been a wolf.

Bella continued, explaining the scene, the faked suicide and the state of his clothes. I suppose since he was fully dressed that means he never had a chance to phase.

There was definitely something unsaid between Bella and the Beast but for the moment, he was too occupied with the information she offered to really sit down and have a chat. I walked him to the back door and watched in amazement as he phased back and took off.

When I came back into the kitchen I found Bella still sitting, staring at her now half empty bottle of beer.

"I'm sorry, I should have told you. I thought we'd have more time." She said.

I picked up another chair and put it in front of her, turning it around so I could straddle the back with my arms draped over it, my hands resting on her knees which were tucked up against her chest, doing things to the placement of her shorts which should be illegal. She could have been wearing sweats and I felt sure my need to touch her would be as strong as ever.

"It's fine, surprise is a novelty for me by now. It'd be a crime to rob me of it." I joked. A smile teased at the corner of her mouth.

"Who was that?" I asked, "Besides a werewolf."

She offered a rueful smile, "Actually, he's a shape shifter. Werewolves are something else entirely. I wouldn't let them hear you mistake one for the other. They take it real personal."

"Shape shifters? Werewolves?...Jesus."

My thumbs caressed the insides of her knees, and a moment later my previous ponderings as to whether Bella felt the physical pull too were answered. Apparently, we weren't close enough for her liking.

She uncurled from the wooden chair and pushed me back from mine, till my ass was near off the edge, then she swung her leg between my torso and the back of the chair, sitting down in front of me so while I was still wrapped around the chair, she was wrapped around me between.

Then, in the destructed kitchen of what I would learn had been her childhood home, with her face pressed into the crook of my neck, she told me everything.

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I just love Calvin. :)


	5. The story of a girl

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I do not.

This is a little background, a little bland, a little necessary.

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"That truck out there? My first vehicle was exactly like it. It was a gift from my father the first day I came back to Forks. He bought it from Jacob-"

"The werewolf?"

"The wolf shifter. Yeah. He bought it from Jacob's father, and Jacob fixed it up. We were friends first. He didn't know then what he was, and neither did I. But there were legends, the same legends that revealed the identity of the Cullens. The cold ones. There were five of them at the high school."

"They went to school?!"

Bella gave me a look for interrupting her again.

"Sorry." I said, properly chastised, but grinning because she looked so cute when she was annoyed.

"Edward Cullen, forever stuck as seventeen, and for a time, I wanted to be stuck with him. I was in love with his whole family. But I haven't seen them since my 18th Birthday."

For the next 45 minutes I didn't interrupt again. I lost my ability to speak.

She went on to tell me about how the Cullen family came to be, her arrival in Forks and the intense young man in her biology class, his nightly visits and their time together, she told me about James, Victoria and Laurent, even going on to tell me about her later meeting with Laurent and the three wolves that saved her, and not long after that Jacob Blacks's destruction of Victoria, who, unbeknownst to Bella, had been stalking her.

Her face was twisted into a painful grimace as she described the scene in the woods and the last time she saw the boy, the memories overwhelming but now somehow stale. I imagine she's cried enough over them. She explained the six months of depression she suffered through after their departure and Jacob's gradual infiltration into her life and heart.

"When I started to come alive, to feel again, I learned that if I was reckless enough, I would hallucinate and there he would be, Edward, as he often was, scornful and caring. One day my actions reached their peak and Jake was there to catch me, or at least, to collect me after the fall."

"Why are you telling me all of this?"

She ran her left palm along the bicep braced around her, her eyes sad but resigned, "Because if I keep these secrets, they'll always be there, that mystery in the subtext of everything that I say and do, and I don't want that. I want to get the past out of our way. After this, after today, it's just us and who we are now, at least on my part."

I exhaled shakily, relieved that it was out of the way.

"There's more." She breathed. The undersides of her knees slid higher up along the tops of my thighs, as if she were tense. Both of her hands slid down my chest to rest on my pecks and she starred intently at the space between her palms.

Goddammit. How much more can one human girl take?

"I was pregnant with Jacob's child the first time he shifted." My hands clenched around the wood along the back of the chair, splintering it. Disinterestedly Bella glanced back at the debris behind her.

"Well, at least now it matches the table." She said.

I wasn't in the mood for jokes now, "Explain." I barked.

She started to comb her fingers through my hair and gradually I relaxed, my fingers slackened. Fearful of the splinters I braced her back against my palm; I took a deep breath and said in a calmer manner, "Please tell me."

My own mother had a miscarriage when I was six, as sweet a woman as she was, she was also very strong and that was one of the only times I ever saw her distraught. Even the death of my father she took in stride. Then again, he was a bastard.

"You never realize how much you want something until it's gone." Her thoughts were years away, I was merely a spectator, "It wasn't his fault. I was going to get an abortion; he was the one that wanted to keep it."

_False hope had kept her __above water. Jake pulled her out of her depression but she still wasn't ready to let go. She told him about her relationship with Edward, omitting the supernatural factor, and for awhile, everything was okay. She wasn't happy, but she was content. As the months passed and the heartache lingered, Jake began treating her badly, bitter over her never-ending love for "the leech". He thought tough love would snap her out of it, back into reality, but every syllable stung. When she eventually broke up with him, he told her that the bloodsucker probably left for her own good and she realized that it would be incredibly like __**him**__ to do that. She convinced herself he would come back and wondered if she hadn't been holding onto that hope for a while. _

_She had subconsciously been changing herself to become someone she thought he could love and not leave. It is why she developed grace, why she became stronger, faster; it wasn't to bond with Jake through activities. It is why she lost herself in her studies and was at the top of her class. It is why she cut everyone out so that she could leave them all behind when the time came. The last thing she did for the vampire killed __her__ love for __him__. She made an appointment for an abortion. You can't be a mom and a newborn vampire._

_The day before her appointment, Jake showed up on her doorstep, begging her to take him back. Minutes later the phone rang, the clinic was calling to remind her about her appointment, as if she would need to be reminded. Jake had gone through some bizarre changes - heightened hearing being one of them. He demanded to know what was going on, why she had an appointment with Planned Parenthood of Central Washington. She broke down and told him the truth. Unfortunately, the same moment in which he found out is the same moment in which they found out he was a werewolf. _

_The attack made the abortion appointment a non-issue. For months she was bed ridden in a hospital. _"Do you have any idea how many births take place in a city hospital every week?" _Every single first cry of a newborn was a heaping cup of salt to her wounds._

_She told everyone that a bear had attacked her. _

_One day, on his way home from visiting her at the hospital, Charlie was in a car accident that took his life. She missed the funeral, too damaged to leave the safety of the hospital, and the very next day, Bella's mother, Renée, gleefully told her that she was pregnant. Grief stricken, Bella lashed out at her. This was the first time she had seen her mother in over a year._

_Renee forgave her, unaware of Bella's pregnancy and insensitive to the loss of Charlie. But months passed and Bella was left alone in the hospital without word from her mother. She realized Renee was getting her second chance and while lonely, she couldn't hate her for that. To be a daughter, you have to be human first. And __**He **__had__taken her humanity when he left, whether he desired it or not._

_Bella and Jake had both made too many mistakes to salvage any sort of relationship. Not long after the altercation he imprinted with one of her best friends from high school and married. _"He has two sons now."

_She remembered the day she walked again. It had been three long months of surgery after surgery, painful skin grafts and rehab. She wouldn't be able to have children now, even if she wanted to. The five months of recovery were just as grueling. Around the due date of her pregnancy, she found herself in the physiotherapy wing, alone, and for once, unsupervised. Soft snow clung to the window, the colorful Christmas lights and streetlights shone through, illuminating the otherwise dark room. She pulled herself out of her wheelchair, struggling and wobbling like a newborn filly, until she grabbed onto the bars. She took a few steps with the help of the bars before lifting her palms an inch off and taking one step, then another and another, sweat pouring down her facer. Reaching the end, exhausted yet jubilant she threw her hands up into the air and let out a whoop. She stumbled forward and fell. Pulling herself up she looked around, not for help, but for someone to share in her success and her feelings of joy promptly disappeared._

_Breath_, I reminded myself.

"You're not alone anymore." I promised her.

She dropped her face into the crook of my neck, exhausted by the memories.

Just one question needed to be answered, "Do you still want to be a mother?" I asked into her fragrant hair.

She lifted her face from my neck but avoided my eyes, "It's a non-issue now."

"Why? Just because you can't naturally conceive doesn't mean you can't have children. You could adopt…How old are you anyways?"

She huffed, "I'm 25. Please just drop it Calvin. There's still more that I need to tell you. When I was discharged from the hospital I came home with a tougher skin to an empty house. I promised myself I would never again be so weak as to lose myself to a man. Unfortunately, I took that a bit too far.

I became the model of cold hearted self-discipline. I kept busy to combat the loneliness. I studied more than I ever had and I worked out obsessively. I enrolled in the local community college, but my professors didn't know what to do with me, so they recommended me for uDub. Then, because I had advanced so much since high school, and my progress had been undocumented, they had me complete a series of tests. I did… well and word of my results spread, until I was contacted by a representative of Duke University.

By then, I'd become so detached that I didn't even have any friends to say goodbye to when I left Forks.

As you might know, Duke is not a cheap place to study. Charlie's life insurance policy helped to pay tuition, but, even then, it was hard to make ends meet. So I got a faculty job. I worked in the finance department, dealing with government and corporate grants. I started to notice-"

Just then my cell pone rang. Only one person had that number. Bella shifted in my lap to lift her leg so I could pull it out of my jean pocket.

"Jenks?"

"I have the documents."

"We'll come by to pick them up soon. I appreciate it."

"Always a pleasure."

I hung up. It probably wasn't a pleasure. I had never laid a finger on the man, but someone had, because he was scared shitless of vampires.

"What was that about?" Bella asked.

"I have your new identification."

She quirked her eyebrow, and considering it was already arched and imperial looking, the movement made her appear comically villainous.

"So, who am I?" She inquired

"Bella-Marie Fawn." I said, fighting back the smile.

She laughed, "Why Bella-Marie? Why Fawn?"

"Bella-Marie because Marie is your middle name and it makes you sound like a southern belle and fawn because you're Bambi."

It was the first time I had called her Bambi to her face. Now her other eyebrow joined the dance, "I'm Bambi?"

"Yes ma'am."

She thought about this quietly for a moment, "So, I'm the Disney, doe-eyed, innocent character, and you're the free roaming, feral horse?"

"I guess so. If I'm a mustang and you're Bambi. Anyways, what were you saying about noticing something at Duke?"

She grinned and swung her legs off me, moving towards the fridge, "Never mind, I'll tell you some other time…You know Bambi is a male right?"

I was genuinely shocked; I had not seen the movie, only posters and such when it was first released in 1942 and the general Disney merchandise that still exists today. Just like that I'm transported back to the war years. The First World War I was still just a young boy. But the Second World War…those were tough, trying to find my place within the chaos. I was only 6 years old in vampire years. I wanted to enlist, but too many factors dictated that I could not be involved. I had considerable self-control, but war meant bloodlust and I could have been a danger to my own people.

In 1944 when the first concentration camp, Majdanek, was discovered by the Soviet Russians, and word of it and others reached the U.S., I was as incensed as everyone else. I renewed my efforts to find a way to enlist and decided I would try a solitary endeavor, become a pilot. I had to be careful about documentation; there could be no records with my face, which meant no obvious acts of heroism just because I knew I couldn't die. I excelled in aviation and was asked to go on a photo reconnaissance mission, to fly as low as I could over the heart of Germany. A near suicide mission for most, but necessary.

I had hardly made it into the border when I was shot down. When my plane crash landed, I thought to myself, "this isn't so bad; I can do some damage while I'm on the ground". Instead I came across a pair of young Jewish children seeking refuge and a way out. The brother was barely nine and the sister was perhaps seven. They were unusually quiet and while they did not know how long they had been wandering the forests I could guess from their overtly stealthy manner that it had been more than a few days since they became orphaned. I only found them because I could smell them.

The boy spoke of his father, a botanist, and one puzzle piece of their survival came into place. His sister hardly spoke at all. I had never considered myself particularly paternal, but my own father was an angry, pious man and before I had become vampire, when I had dreamed of family and future, I had promised myself never to be like that, never to lose my temper against a child. I spent more than two months with them, smuggling them through towns, stealing, hunting and preparing food for them, finding them a bed to sleep in, pretending to be human so as to not frighten them further. Still, children are among the most perceptive and I think they knew I was something other. They didn't care.

Finally we tracked down their aunt and I left them to her, along with all the savings I had, which was not much. The war was over 8 months later, but the experience of saving them inspired me, I was proud of the way I had conducted myself. Only I often took off when one of the children would occasionally scrape themselves, hardly helpful to them but a good precaution. I returned to Germany and smuggled countless people over the border into safe territories, using my gift of persuasion to subdue those that may ask questions or protest. I managed to persuade a number of soldiers to give up the fight entirely and desert. In the end, during my year in Germany, I never killed a soul. I will always be grateful for that.

"Calvin?" A hand waved in front of my face. I blinked and saw Bella's concerned face in front of me, "Are you okay?"

"Sorry, yes, I am. What are you doing?" I looked around the kitchen and noticed the ingredients on the counter.

"I'm making dinner." She answered.

"Let me."

This alarmed her, "You know how to cook?"

I smiled sheepishly, "I might."

"How? You can't taste it." She settled back down on the chair, tucking a knee up and staring at me with blatant fascination.

I tried not to be too offended, "No, but I can smell it. That and I've cooked for others before, albeit a long time ago, but vampires seldom forget anything."

"How long ago are we talking here? Do you know how to work a modern oven?"

I stared at the dials, "Well, at least let me help you."

She grinned and hopped off the chair, "Chop these up." She ordered, pointing at a group of vegetables.

Less than an hour later we were sitting on the old musty couch in the living room and Bella was devouring a stir-fry. I hadn't realized it had been so long since breakfast.

While she ate we talked about how we could contribute to the investigation. I'd never been on this side of the law before and I was intrigued by the possibilities.

She put her empty plate onto the coffee table and yawned.

"Bedtime?" I asked, anxious for what treasures and mysteries this night would yield.

She nodded in agreement but before she could move I scooped her up and ran her up to a bedroom. I deposited her on top of a queen sized bed in a small bedroom I assumed had been hers.

She promptly stood back up, "Wait, I just have to brush my teeth and wash my face. Maybe I'll do the dishes too."

"You get ready for bed, I'll handle the dishes."

I ran back downstairs and gathered her plate and utensils from the coffee table. I moved everything to the side of the sink and look underneath for dish soap.

Huh. None there, I guess that's one thing whoever stocked her house forgot to pick up. Otherwise they did a pretty good job. Angela maybe? I looked through a few more cupboards looking for something to use on the dishes. She didn't have a dishwasher.

I checked the time on the oven. After midnight. Well, no stores will be open in this Podunk town, I can't go wake up a neighbor and I don't want to bother Bella.

It's just dishes, it can wait till morning.

But I told her I'd do them.

Maybe there is a 24 hour convenience store somewhere? This was the thought I had when I found myself standing in an unknown kitchen. Christ. Sometimes breaking and entering just seems like second nature. I looked under the sink and found a nearly full bottle of Sunlight. I slipped back out, using trade secrets to lock the door again.

In other words, I could smell the metal of the key in the garden under one of those mock rocks.

Bella came down the stairs just as I darted back into the kitchen. She came around the corner and I hid my dirty hands behind my back.

"I just remembered I forgot to tell Angela to pick up-"she was saying as she came into view"…what are you doing?"

"Nothing. I was just about to do the dishes." She leaned her upper body to the side to see around me and I could tell by her expression exactly when she saw the Sunlight bottle.

"Where did you get that?" She asked.

"Uh. I ran to the store and bought it."

Her brows came together in confusion, "What store?"

"The convenience store. You haven't been here in awhile Bella, maybe it's new."

I didn't know how she would react when she realized how casually I committed felonies.

She walked forward and starred at the bottle. The top had a bit of soap residue around it.

"I didn't realize the, uh, seal was broken." And now I was lying casually, after she had exposed every part of herself to me earlier. When did I become so shady?

"Let me see your hands." She said. Her lip quirked.

Like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar (do people really own cookie jars?) I showed her my dirty fingernails.

"Okay. I stole it."

I expected to be reprimanded but instead she burst out laughing and I went from feeling guilty to feeling indignant.

"I said I'd handle your dishes, and with God as my witness I am going to!"

"I think God would care more about you stealing than not keeping your word." She grinned.

She grabbed a towel hanging off the oven door, "I'll dry."

A pan and a fork in I asked, "Do you believe in God?"

She glanced up at me from the corner of her eye, the humor gone and replaced with weariness, "I have to."

Huh. "Why?"

"Because otherwise I might be scared to die."

A knife and a cup, "What if you don't die?"

She ducked her hair and it curtained her face from me, inspiring disappointment like the end of a great play, "You should go hunt. Your eyes are looking a little dark." She said quietly.

I had hunted earlier that day and we both knew it. I was being dismissed. Instead of reacting I washed the plate, knife and a pot. I grabbed the towel from her and dried the wet pot. I folded the towel back up and slide it back over the oven handle then I ducked down and kissed the top of Bella's head. I can take a hint, I would take off, but in the moments since her last statement her body betrayed her and she yielded, wrapping her arms around me, as tightly as a human could.

I had grabbed a sweatshirt from my bag while Bella had finished cooking and her voice was muffled in the fabric, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be so defensive. Please stay."

"You shouldn't, but I'd forgive you for worse." I admitted.

She felt so warm against my body and I was reminded of my promise to her earlier in the day, in this same kitchen, the way she had shivered.

But as long as she was planning on leaving this world behind I had to be careful about getting too attached or else prepare myself to believe in God as well. A line from a movie popped into my head, "Georgia, love is for the very young."

There are a lot of amazing women out there, remarkable, strong, intelligent women, but I could never feel more for them than admiration. Bella was like a vortex. For now, I was going to try to fight the pull. I didn't know what I would find in the chaos. She might be ready to die. But I wasn't, not yet.

She led me back up to her room and I noticed how the bed dwarfed the size of the room. I commented on it and Bella explained that she hadn't felt comfortable moving into her father's bedroom. I nodded sagely as if I could comprehend the complete disregard of practicality humans exhibited when confronted with emotion.

She slept fitfully that night, clutching at her stomach. Her shirt rode up, revealing the scar I had noticed the day before. A low growl filled the air of the room. I understood now. I felt that kind of hurt when it feels like there is an ache in your chest, a clog in your throat, your gums tingling and pressure everywhere. My fingertips danced lightly over the raised skin, contradicting the anger I felt, a frown pulling at my mouth when I heard her giggle in her sleep. "That tickles" she murmured sleepily. I hadn't meant to disturb her but after that she slept more soundly. I spread my hand across her abdomen and she clutched it there, relaxing into a deep sleep. I stayed like that for hours. The fingers of my right hand sprawled over her stomach, lying on my side with my head propped up by my left hand, elbow crooked. Starring down at her, for once I stopped thinking and when she awoke it was like I did too.

Her hands clutched a little tighter to mine. How could two people, in a world full of crowds, feel so starved for connection? For physical contact?

Her eyes blinked open and like the morning before it was like a kick to the stomach, the air in my lungs escaping in a whoosh. Tentatively I slid my hand off her body. What night Bella needed and what day Bella wanted could be two different things.

She propped herself up against the headboard, gradually waking up, yawning and stretching like a content cat, "We going back into Seattle today?" She asked.

"The police are going to be looking for you, and once they find you gone from your apartment, they're going to come looking here. We need to get your new documents and find a new place to stay for awhile." Bella had admitted an interest in using my power to discover who the murderer was, so it looked like we'd be staying in Forks for awhile, hiding in plain sight right under the noses of the detectives.

We took up the morning retrieving her new identity from Jenks. I'd never seen him as loose as he was with Bella and I'll be damned if that old son of a gun wasn't one charming mother. Bella handled it all in stride, exuding all the warmth of a woman who knows herself and smiling deep into his wrinkle lined eyes. When we left he even shook my hand and said he was looking forward to seeing us again real soon.

I think he may have even meant it.

We drove into Forks and from the damp foliage and puddle riddled streets it was clear it had rained during our absence. This really was a wonderful town for my kind.

We had to go to the store first, to pick up a new bottle of Sunlight for the neighbors and other odds and ends Bella forgot to tell Angela to pick up. I learned she had placed the call when I had been out hunting.

I pulled into the store parking lot and got out first, flashing over to her side of the car, knowing by the sounds of nearby heartbeats that no one could see me at this angle. I helped her out of the passenger seat and held her hand as we walked across the parking lot to the store. A car was waiting in the lane of the parked cars, waiting for another car to back out so they could take its place. But between the side of that car and the back of another was a giant puddle

"You know," I said conversationally as we approached it, "in my days, men used to put their coats down on puddles for a woman to walk on." I smiled deviously at her, quickly swinging her up into my arms, cradling her against my chest and marching through the murky water, "But I really like this coat."

Besides our brief moment of awkwardness the other night, we had settled in together remarkably fast and comfortably.

Being in Forks was about to teach me a whole lot more about Bambi.

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Next chapter? Maybe some BellaPOV. But no more background for awhile.

Review? Pwetty pwease?


	6. My, what big teeth you have

_**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I do not.**_

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"**I can't go back to yesterday, because I was a different person back then." – Lewis Carroll (Alice's Adventures in Wonderland)**

**BellaPOV (!)**

Fuck. It's Lauren. She looks like a Barbie doll that has been chewed up and spit out by the neighborhood mutt - which she kind of has been since she married Mike Newton shortly after Jessica divorced him. Smartest thing that girl ever did, which isn't saying much. I try to stand really still, recalling what I saw on the Discovery channel a week ago about predators, maybe if I don't make any sudden movements, she won't see me. Her face lights up like its goddamn Christmas morning and I already know what is about to happen.

She is going to talk to me like we're long lost best friends.

She is going to express concern over my life's injustices.

She's going to smile at me like the most compassionate soul to have ever lived.

In the meantime, those artificially plump lips, which look slightly infected from their latest injection, are going to spew poorly concealed barbwires at me in hopes of destroying whatever self confidence I may have gained over the years. I have half a mind to shout out "AIR RAID" and turn tail like she's the Unabomber.

Before I can though she starts in with a very cheery, "Isabella dear! How are you? Poor thing, life must be treating you terribly ever since-"

Mother_fucker_.

I tune her out and look around frantically for Calvin. He is waiting over by the deli counter, where I sent him on an errand. When he sees the expression on my face he strides over looking like a young, much handsomer Marlon Brando, mixed with a little Taylor Kitsch as Gambit and a wet dream, only to crassly inquire as to where the fish counter is, for he was sure he could smell it, until he stops as if just spotting Lauren and looking ever so relieved, sighs out "never mind, I've found it". Lauren is horrified.

That's my boy.

I turn to him, "Now, now, Calvin, it isn't Lauren's fault her parents are cousins."

She sneers at us before taking off in a huff, sparing a moment to glare at Calvin and me as she turns, only to have her face falter when her eyes land on him and reveal unadulterated awe. I can't say I blame her. Edward was beautiful, a little girl's dream prince. Calvin is everything a hot-blooded woman could ever want, if you weren't careful you'd cream yourself just looking at him. When she is out of sight I become aware of Calvin watching me from the corner of his eye.

"You know I wasn't joking, I don't think your friend has been introduced to the concept of personal hygiene." He is standing close beside me with his hands buried in his pockets; he somehow manages to pull of looking both mischievously smug and angelically innocent all at once.

"Gross Calvin, I don't want to know what she smells like." I wrinkle my nose up in distaste. Not removing his hands from his pockets Calvin turns to me and curves his torso so he is towering over me and I have to look straight up to see his eyes. As a result his delicious mouth is just an inch above mine, begging me to lift up off my heels. He has a playful smile lingering around those perfectly curved lips but his eyes are darkening. God, he smells good, dark, all cedar, mint and man. He lowers his face towards my left cheek without breaking eye contact and I can feel his cold breath against my skin as he travels around my ear, mouth still an inch away, icy exhales into my hair leave me shuddering. He's not even touching me and I feel like he is everywhere. I want to reach for him but that's not us.

"Would you like to know what your fragrance is like?" He is right in my face with his scent curling around my features, screaming _lean in, lean in!_ I shake my head and the spell is broken.

"I already know: freesias and strawberries." I start to turn away, try to be brusque, nonchalant, but his hands swiftly reach out to grab my upper arms to pull me into his chest.

"Then you don't know. Those are just weak comparisons, not a true description." His gaze is intense and I can't look away. God, when he gets like this, he's nearly irresistible. I wonder if he even realizes it. He must. The rest of the time, he's so close, always touching, conditioning my body to feel bereft without his presence. I can feel it already.

"You smell sweet, but it's a wild sweetness. You can find freesias and strawberries at a place like this, the local grocer," his voice becomes softer, huskier'But to indulge in your scent you would have to step out after a summer's rainfall and find a wild, ageless field full of them, there since the time of Adam and Eve and still untouched." His eyes search mine, "Bella, you're classic."

I pull away to stare at him slack jawed like an idiot. That might be one of the most beautiful things anyone has ever said to me. I admit, when he first leaned in I was thrilled by the eroticism, but a few words later and I'm terrified, because he is disarmingly romantic. And by the looks of it, he is as shocked by that discovery as I am.

We finished shopping, blissfully free from interruption or long lost whoever they weres. When we reach the cash a young girl, no older than 18, fluttered her eyelashes at Calvin. But the man is an ignorant ogre and he starts loading the conveyer belt with my purchases, not even noticing the way the girl directs all her inquiries at him.

She looks perplexed and starts to focus on her task, running a price check on a carton of raspberries and then discussing the product's information in the computer program with the young man who reported back to her.

While she does, I mutter teasingly to Calvin "That's not very nice."

"What's that?" He asks, his head shooting up from where he is bent over the cart.

"She's putting on a whole show, and you're not even watching." I gestured towards the girl.

Finally he looked up at the girl, but his face registered only confusion as his eyes darted quickly back to me.

Clueless.

We cart our purchases out to Calvin's truck and head back to my father's home. When we arrive there is a cruiser in the driveway. Calvin parks along the side of the road.

"Perfect, stay here." He says and he's out before I can answer, grinning like this was the best thing that could ever happen. Mere minutes later the cops walk dazedly back to their car and drive off.

I get out, reaching back for a few bags. They're looped around my arms one second and gone the next, the whole lot held in Calvin's hands as he ushers me towards the door.

"What happened?" I asked, retrieving my key from my purse.

"They're headed back to Seattle. They're going to tell their supervising officer that the house was empty, and by the looks of it, had been for awhile. In fact, there is a For Sale sign on the lawn, covered by an orange banner that says "SOLD", which they checked into at the local real estate offices and the papers haven't been drawn up yet, but it's a done deal. They also talked to your neighbors and no one has seen you, but everyone was very cooperative and promised to call the moment you showed up. But first, they're going to Denny's for a well earned lunch which they won't mention to anyone."

"That is talent." I remarked, somewhat stupefied.

I couldn't imagine having my free-will taken from me, but more than that, I couldn't imagine having the power to take others and resist the urge to abuse it.

He gives me a fleeting smile before he heads towards the kitchen.

I follow him in, "Have you ever had someone perform sexually for you?"

What? Like you weren't wondering about that too.

He's so startled he drops a soup can, he ignores it, even when it bounces off his baby toe, and I can't help but flinch, "Jesus woman, of course not. Is that what you would do?!"

"I don't know what I'd do. I haven't had as much time to think about it as you have."

"Well I haven't. I'm not really into the whole sex with zombie things, and that's exactly what they're like when they obey. I prefer my partner to be a willing participant."

"So you've never directed someone while, you know, going at it?"

"I have to focus on making it a command. I might say something that sounds like a direction, but it's their call if they listen. Sometimes people surprise you and I like that." He picked up the can and continued unpacking, then paused "Wait. I lied."

"Really? What happened?" Maybe I'm being too forward, but I have the same kind of philosophy as him, it's his call if he answers.

"I was with a divorcee. Her husband had been stiflingly traditional and I think even abusive. A real dickhead. We were getting into it and she would open her mouth to say something, or make a move then stop herself, she kept looking at my face, as if checking my reaction. Was I angry? Was I frustrated, impatient? I wasn't any of those things but the fear in her face was making me hesitate about the whole thing. She wasn't ready. But then, I thought, she might never be. Not without a little encouragement. I kept telling her she could do or say anything she wanted, but she kept holding back."

"So what did you do?"

"I commanded her to tell me everything she wanted to do, to say. She told me and then I snapped her out of it and we got back into it. I started to initiate everything she said she wanted, even things I wasn't sure how I felt about. Some of them had to do with her being submissive and given her history I wasn't sure how to accomplish that while making it clear she was the one in control. Anyways, I sort of skirted that and focused on everything else she said and eventually she just sort of took over. I kept in touch a little longer with her than I normally would, just so she knew her behavior wasn't at all off putting. I made up a story about being transferred for work and we parted amiably."

He put some stuff in the fridge then turned back to me. I was sitting in the only undamaged chair in the kitchen, watching him.

"About two years after that I tracked her down, she was engaged to the guitarist of the band that had played at the bar I met her at. Nice guy. When she thought no one was looking she'd smack his ass playfully. Anyways, I really feel like I did my duty as a good citizen so I don't feel too bad about using my power."

I laughed, "Oh yeah, I'm sure it was all unselfish reasons on your part."

He winked at me and finished unloading the groceries.

"So should we go to the reservation and see how we can be of service?" He asked.

"Soon. I need to eat first."

"Oh, of course, sorry."

And he was. He genuinely was disappointed in himself for forgetting my trivial human needs. So cute.

"What can I get you?" He asked.

"I'm just going to have that can of soup you dropped earlier. There's a dent in it now so I should eat it as soon as possible."

"What? Why?"

"If the dent is sharp enough, there could be a pin sized hole, which means there is a risk of botulism." His face was blank, "Botulism is a toxin which can potentially be fatal."

His eyes flashed wide and he threw open the cupboard, looking for the dented can in an alarmed flurry of movement.

"Calvin! It only just happened. It's safe!"

He tried to calm down and reluctantly handed me the can. I went to the drawer with the can opener and dumped the contents into a microwave safe bowl, quickly heating it. Calvin followed me into the living room where I settled down to eat, but his expression was distant.

"I'll be right back, I uh, don't know if I put the milk away."

"Okay." I shrugged, I kept eating when I heard a quiet clinking. My spoon froze halfway to my mouth. I put down my bowl and tiptoed into the kitchen. If he'd been paying attention he would have heard me. Instead he was standing at the counter with every can I owned in front of him, ripping off the labels and examining every inch of the cylinder. I burst out laughing and he almost jumped.

"Calvin! I appreciate your concern but how the hell am I supposed to know what each can is now?!"

He looked down at the bare can in his hand, then at the numerous others that looked exactly like it, then down at the pile of discarded labels in the garbage can, "Oops."

The embarrassed expression he wore reminds me of the one he wore in my apartment after bumping into me. He wasn't lying. It _really_ wasn't small. My cheeks heated up and his own embarrassment was forgotten in favor of the source of mine.

He questioned me into the living room, back to the kitchen where I cleaned my bowl, and outside towards the truck.

He was seated in the passenger seat when he forgot his focus, "Where are we going?"

"The reservation." I answered.

He nodded and handed me the keys, not the least be perturbed that he was about to be driven right into the wolves den, his hand going towards the dial of the radio.

"What's your favorite band?" I asked.

He grinned, still focused on the radio display, "I have a weak spot for 90's alternative rock."

I laughed, "Your kidding."

"Nope. Third Eye Blind might be my favorite band."

"I always liked them. Oh, and Treble Charger. And Blink182"

"Yeah, they were good. Really I like a lot of genres, after living through so many music generations, everything just seems so damn catchy." He flipped through a few more channels, until, low and behold, a Third Eye Blind song.

I laughed as he belted out the last half of "Deep Inside of You", occasionally off key, but still my heart swelled hearing his perfectly husky voice.

I knew the rules, no vampires in La Push, and while I thought it was a little overdramatic, I still stopped at the border. I didn't want to put Calvin in danger.

Jacob's number was still in my cell phone.

He picked up after the first ring and I didn't give him time to speak, "We're coming on to your lands, to your house. Anything happens to Calvin and I won't be as forgiving as I've been in the past."

I hung up on his protests. Now it was time to deal with Calvin. I kept the trucked parked.

"Calvin. I know you're angry about what happened, but you weren't there, you can't lash out. Promise me you'll behave."

He stared hard at me for a moment, gauging how serious I was, finally he sighed, "I promise."

I blew out a shaky breath. I didn't want to do this, but I knew they'd never come to us, they'd never ask for the help of a vampire. But if we didn't get this resolved, that vacant face, the one I struggled not to see in my mind's eye, would haunt me. You can only keep busy for so long, before you have to stop and think.

Calvin waited patiently as I gathered my nerve and put the truck back into gear.

I had to fight the urge to tense up and go on the defensive when the first thing we saw upon pulling up to Jacob's house was Paul, sitting on the porch with that stupid goddamn sneer on his face. He's such an angry S.O.B., I don't know how Rachel puts up with him.

"Well if it isn't the necrophile." Paul yelled as we got out of the truck. Calvin's head snapped to me, looking for approval, his eyes blazing. I gave a minute shake of my head. I could handle this.

"That's what I love about these vampires, I keep getting older, they stay the same age." I replied, using my best Matthew Mcconaughey impersonation. Calvin's face went blank then he broke out in raucous laughter, startling Paul. At least someone thinks I'm funny. Hearing him laugh relaxed my body and I met him around the front of the truck. He lopped his arm around my shoulders.

Jacob slammed out of the house, "Bella. What's the meaning of this?"

We walked up to the door but Jacob was blocking it, I was getting such a warm welcome in Forks, "We want to help in the investigation."

Paul chuckled darkly, "How? Are you-"

"Shut up." Calvin told him. And he did. It was amazing. Of course, Paul and Jacob didn't seem to think so.

"Huh. Works different on them."

I saw what he meant when Jacob was struggling to talk too. They were clawing at their mouths as if that was the source of the problem.

"Pack mentality?" I mused, watching them.

"You mean like collective thinking? Tamper with one of their minds, tamper with all?"

"Exactly."

"That's rather inconvenient. Alright, talk if you must." Calvin said. The moment they could they were both shouting.

That's when Angela came to the door, alerted by the ruckus.

"Jake, what's wrong?"

He answered, but I stopped listening. Angela was huge, she was huge and glowing. Her belly was swollen and her cheeks were rosy. She looked beautiful. And pregnant. Again.

Calvin tightened his arm around me, picking up on my discomfort, and cut in their conversation, "Now you know how we can help. We'll be back at Bella's. You need a lie detector, you let me know. Later."

He was getting ready to throw me back into the cab and Paul was still yelling, but this meeting was far too short. I shouldn't be getting so emotional. We just got here.

"Wait." I said, "I'm sorry. Please, let's start over. Calvin means no harm. Paul, you're a jackass. Angela, it's fantastic to see you again, you look great, truly." I tried to choke out a "congratulations" and although I would have meant it, I couldn't say it.

She turned towards me and her face lit up, she pulled me into an awkward, blimp between us, hug, "Bella! Come in, come in! I was just about to make some lunch. My God, you look gorgeous! I was so happy to get your call! Are those heels?"

"Oh, thank you, but I already ate. This is Calvin. Calvin this is Angela." He reached over with his free hand and shook Angela's hand. Jacob watched the whole exchange carefully, squinting to measure the force of Calvin's grasp, but even I could tell it was unnecessarily loose.

Angela pulled her hand back slowly, her eyes assessing Calvin, "Your skin is cold. Are you of the, um," she glanced towards me, "non-living persuasion?"

"Yes ma'am, Calvin Warren, at your service." I swear, if he was wearing a hat, he'd tip it. He gave her his best smile and she answered it with a hesitant one of her own. Angela was never rude; in fact, she was one of the best people I've ever had the pleasure to know.

Jacob grumbled, "Alright, so you can control people's voices?"

"Close. Forget the part about voices." Calvin answered.

"You can control…people?!" Paul said incredulously.

Calvin nodded, "All but this one." He tilted his head in my direction.

"How does that work exactly?" Jacob asked.

I'd been wondering more about that myself. Calvin was so forthcoming, laid-back and honest with his reply that as he spoke, we migrated casually inside, where Angela forgot about being a good hostess or cooking lunch and instead just listened, as enraptured as the rest of us.

He explained it like a volume dial. He tapped into people and felt it there, like a door or a switch. As he'd explained before, humans were easily accessed and he could select how many he directed, but they had to be close enough to hear. Vampires required more focus, so while he thought he might be able to direct a few, so far he had to focus hard just to get one individual vampire to obey. On the other hand, their hearing was much better. The newest development was with the shifters. Only one of them had to hear him for all of them to obey, like a portal to all the others.

"What about Isabella?" Paul asked, his voice curiously lacking its usual malice.

"I can't feel her at all. There's nothing to grab a hold of."

Blank, Edward had said.

Paul's stomach growled and Angela got up to fix the boys some sandwiches for lunch while Calvin continued his explanation.

Depending on the severity of his order, humans either blanked entirely while he spoke, or followed his word like he'd suggested something they couldn't ignore the wisdom of. Even then, while they went about their task consciously, their minds were empty. Like when you're driving but thinking of something else, you know how you got from A to B but you hardly paid attention to the process. Vampires were always extremely conscious of obeying him, unless he specifically orders them to forget. His intention affects how long the order lasts, and with vampires he has to release his hold on one to direct another.

"I wonder if you had more practice with vampires, if you could –" I started to say, but I was interrupted when Paul and Jacob darted over to stand in front of Angela, facing Calvin and growling. I could see Angela over Jacob's shoulder, sticking her finger in her mouth, her eyes wide with fear. I looked over at Calvin who was still silently sitting in his chair. He hadn't moved except to raise his hands in supplication. His eyes were still gold, as they had been since he'd hunted the day before and I breathed a sigh of relief. Angela must've just nicked herself.

Everyone remained frozen in place until Calvin cleared his throat, "You should make sure you get more iron. You're low. It's not good for you or the baby."

Jacob's posture relaxed minutely.

"I'll, uh, just go wait outside." Calvin said awkwardly. He very slowly and deliberately rose from his chair and skirted along the wall to the door, where he slipped out.

"Well, I like him." Angela said suddenly, after pulling her finger from her mouth and examining it, "I'm sorry, I know better than to be so careless, but his ability was so fascinating to hear about, I forgot myself." Jacob smiled at her indulgently, taking her injured digit in his large, dark hands. Paul growled and glared at me, crossing his arms over his chest, such a drama queen.

Time to wrap up here.

"So, who was the man in the hanger?" I asked.

"Emile Fax. He was one of our newer additions, unexpected too."

I could feel my eyes widen, "People are still changing?"

Jacob looked sheepish, "We might have been wrong about the vampires being the trigger."

"Who could kill a wolf shifter? And why wouldn't he transform?"

"Maybe he didn't see it coming."

A shifter is shot in a scarcely visited hanger far from the reserve? Seems pretty preemptive. You'd think he saw it coming. Unless it was another, stronger shifter who shot him? Then maybe he didn't see the point in transforming?

"Tell me more." I ordered.

"Why should we?" Paul snarled, Jacob shot him a look.

"Why are you even here?" I snapped back.

Jacob interrupted, "Emile recently imprinted."

Paul's anger vanished and he shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably.

"What?" I asked, alerted by Paul's behavior.

Jacob sighed, "He imprinted on another male."

Oh. _Oh._

"Another wolf?"

"No. A human male. A_ married_ human male. The guy works at the post office. Jim Connie."

"Huh. Did Emile know he was gay before he imprinted on this guy?"

Paul jumped in, "Yeah, he had a boyfriend in Forks. Dawson Barnhardt."

A homosexual in denial and a jilted ex.

"None of us really knew the guy. But Emile's dad knew him and didn't like the guy at all." Jacob explained.

A disapproving father.

"Where is the elder Mr. Fax?" I asked.

"Works for me at the shop. He's there now." Jacob said. Jacob owned a repair shop at the edge of the reserve.

"Well then, we'll just be heading on our way. You have my number if you need us." I said, moving towards the door. Paul and Jacob still stood at the island, but they were leaning against it now. Angela had come around to stand beside Jacob.

"Will do." Jacob nodded and Angela came over to hug me once more.

"Remember, iron." I choked out to Angela. I patted her stomach awkwardly then took off. Calvin was leaning against the truck, no doubt listening to everything that had been said inside.

He held the driver's side door open for me and I hopped in, "I'm assuming we're going over to see Mr. Fax?" He asked.

"That's the plan." He ran over to his side and got in.

"Who was the guy with the stick shoved up his ass?"

"Paul. Jacob's second-in-command. Jacob can't stand the guy, but he's one of the oldest so he's respected."

"I was just asking because he's following us."

I figured he would.

We pulled up to the shop. It looked just as it always had and I was overtaken by a moment of nostalgia. An older man walked out of the office, wearing coveralls, attempting to clean his hands with a dirty rag. His head was down but I could still see the bags under his eyes.

I got out quickly, "Mr. Fax?" I called.

He stopped to look at me, "Yes?"

He looked behind me, at the truck, assessing it, thinking I was a customer. I knew any other mechanic would be excited to get their hands on this relic, but his face remained dispassionate.

I approached him and spoke gently, "I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions?"

His expression switched to suspicion, "About what? You're no cop."

"No, I'm not. But we can help you, trust me."

For a moment, desperation flickered behind his eyes and he nodded. Calvin joined me and he led us back into the office.

"Please, have a seat." He gestured towards two reclining chairs, placed in front of the scarred wooden desk, perfectly appropriate for someone's home, but foolish looking in a professional office.

I sat and almost fell backwards when the back of the chair reclined ridiculously easily. Calvin caught the back and righted it. I spent the rest our meeting sitting ramrod straight with Calvin full on lounging in his chair beside me.

When we left, I realized I had learned three things.

One – that man was completely small town, the beer drinking, game watching sort, his camouflage jacket hanging on the hook behind the desk told me he hunted on the weekends and probably fished too, he spoke gruffly, but softly, and was likely your typical masculine introvert. But he loved his son more than anything in this world, would love him no matter what. He was only still working so he could keep his mind off of his grief, and I could respect that.

Two – Emile Fax had horrible taste in men. Dawson Barnhardt was a selfish, self-centered brat.

Three – Calvin should never be taken to any kind of serious meeting. He spent the first half reclined in that damn old chair, his feet propped up, when he finally caught on that the man really was distraught, his whole posturing became more respectful, but he still squirmed around like a child.

"Where to now?" Calvin asked.

"I think we should pay a little visit to our jilted Romeo."

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_**So you're reading this eh? Even though there is no Edward? I hope Calvin can make it worth your while :)**_


	7. Bright lights, Crown Royal

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I do not.**

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****CPOV**

"So, why haven't you had sex in fourteen years?"

I'd be lying if I said this question was unexpected. I kept my face away from her, instead looking out the window at the passing trees and greenery.

"It's complicated." _It's embarrassing._

"I've got time."

I sigh dramatically, so she knows how inconvenienced I am, then I stall some more, trying to think how to best explain it, "Okay. Well, you know how I told you two years after I'd had sex with that divorcee I checked in on her?"

"Yes?"

"That was kind of a habit of mine. I had spare time and I was curious. So, usually every girl that I'd been with, I'd check on two years later. Not to step back into their lives, or even to say hello, that wasn't my purpose; I just wanted to know how they had changed. Anyways, I started to notice a pattern."

Bella grinned, "I love patterns. What was it?"

"They were all in serious relationships and soon-to-be engaged, already engaged or married."

"You're kidding. Why?"

I wondered the same thing, so, "I made contact and asked a few. Each had a different reason; but they didn't really know what had changed after being with me. Maybe it wasn't even them, maybe it was me. Maybe I was picking girls who were ready and open for something serious, or on the brink of feeling so. But that didn't sound like me. I purposely chose girls who seemed like they would be okay with me walking away later, or girls who would be okay walking away from me. Not sluts, per se, just…realists."

"What did the girls you talk to say?"

_Oh boy._

"One girl said being with me gave her that boost of confidence to go after the things she wanted. Another said she had a sort of post-coital epiphany, where she thought that would be the best sex she'd ever have, and after that, she was ready to settle, to know it couldn't get better, and when she decided to settle, what she really did was open herself up to people she hadn't considered before, and ended up meeting some truly amazing men. Then…Derek? Devon? Devon came along. She said when she fell in love with him, she realized then that sex with him was best, because she loved him. All the girls had a variation of those two reasons, confidence or a false sense of resignation which led to more openness."

"Alright, well, that sounds kind of sweet." Bella said an inflection on the word "sweet", still confused.

"If you say so. Problem was I'd seen it happen so many times that I started looking at them differently. While we'd be in the middle of things, I'd start thinking to myself, "I wonder who she'll end up marrying, maybe a Mike or a David". They stopped being women and became…wives. Wives of other men. It really fucked with my head."

"Did you feel dirty and used?"

"You laugh, and I know it's irrational, but my body responded accordingly."

"Not into wives?"

"Not the wives of Devons, Mikes or Davids."

For a few silent moments she contemplated that, and all I could hear was her heartbeat and the crunch of gravel beneath the tires.

"What about you?" I asked finally.

Coyly, she replied, "What about me?"

"When did you last do the lust and thrust?"

Bella snorted. I have a handful of sex euphemisms at my disposal, if she finds them so humorous I'm going to have to bust them out more often…in inappropriate settings where it will undoubtedly embarrass her. …I'm grinning to myself; I can feel it on my face.

"I'm going through a bit of a dry-spell myself." She said wryly.

"Voluntary or not?"

She shrugged, "I don't know, a little of both I guess." She doesn't offer more, "This is it."

She slams the truck into park before it even stops moving and hops out of the cab. I look up at a modern home, surrounded by houses that look exactly like it, in a fairly new subdivision. La Casa di Barnhardts

Not far in the distance I hear a low rumbling growl.

"Not a fan, eh big guy?" I say back to it, still surveying the house. I know he can hear me when an animal-like snort answers me.

Old man Fax said he offered to bring Romeo along with his son to a basketball game, to get to know him better, and the kid laughed and mocked him to his face.

With occurrences like these, it's no surprise that Dawson isn't a real liked guy, he's been described so far as immature, self-centered and overdramatic. Well, _I_ for one cannot wait.

Bella's fist barely touches the door when a reed thin, extremely tall boy-man throws it open. His hair is highlighted and slicked to the side, his tie is shiny and teal and his pants are way too tight. _Don't look at his junk._ I know you should never judge a book by its cover, but the arrogant posture, hand on jutted out hip and the sneer all point towards this being our Romeo.

"What?" He barks.

At Bambi.

He barked at Bambi.

I quickly climb the steps to stand behind her, he's damn tall but I'm taller, so I give him the old stare down. Then I glance down at Bella and abandon my attempts.

She does it better.

After a moment his posture falters and becomes uncomfortable, and then his voice turns whiny, "What?"

"Answer me – did you kill anybody in the last month?" I make it a command. We don't have time for this bullshit.

His eyes glaze, "No."

"Didn't think so. Too stupid." I grab Bella's hand and drag her back down the stairs.

I call back over my shoulder, "Wear socks and sandals every Tuesday."

He nods, still dazed and goes back inside.

There's forgetting your manners, and then there's being rude.

Bella gaps at me.

"What? He'll figure out a way to make it fashionable someday."

"No! Why didn't you just do that for the last guy?"

"Because it's impolite. Mr. Fax was a nice man and deserved to speak freely for himself."

"Do they even realize that you've taken their free will?" She challenges. I spend the ride back to her place explaining to her that it is a matter of principle.

When we pull up to her house Paul is already there waiting for us, back in human form and actually wearing some clothes.

"Anymore ideas?" He asks wearily.

"What's it to you?" Bella says, not unkindly.

Paul glares at her before everything about him just seems to drop, defeated and tired, "Emile was my best friend."

We stand there dumbfounded while Paul stares forlorn at the ground. Finally, I pat him awkwardly on the shoulder.

"What was he like?" Bella asks gently, before guiding him into the house. It becomes apparent that she is accustomed to shifters when the first thing she sets about doing is making food, and lots of it.

"He was just a nice guy, level-headed, hardworking, family oriented. …I, uh, can be a bit rough around the edges-"

I snorted, _no really?_

He gives me the stink eye, when it's him who stinks, "but he was always patient. He wasn't real chatty but he was always good company. You ever meet someone that is just good? He was one of those, real rare."

"So what was he doing with a guy like Dawson?" Bella asked, placing a huge mug of hot chocolate in front of him. The table was still smashed, but Bella had moved the sole surviving chair closer to the small table whose primary function seemed to be to hold mail, shopping lists or written telephone messages, at least if the "While you were out…" stationary is any indication. I move the pile of paper over to the counter to make room.

Paul shrugged before taking a huge gulp of what looked like steaming hot chocolate, his eyes nearly rolled back in his head, "Damn, I may not like you, but you always did make the best hot chocolate."

I look at Bella, amazed and a little sad, because I would never know that if he hadn't said it.

He takes a few more big gulps and sets the mug down, empty, "I think it was just because in this small little town, Dawson was the only guy who knew what he was going through. We all supported him, but we didn't have the experience to talk with him about all of it."

I nod, though he isn't looking at me. Bella has placed a bag of chips and a platter piled high with sandwiches in front of him and he's tearing into it like he hasn't seen food in years. I'm sort of standing in the middle of the kitchen, with Bella leaning back against the counter with a satisfied expression on her face and Paul sitting down in front of me. Conscious of our staring I move back to lean beside Bella.

When he finished, nearly licking the plate clean, he turned to me, "You going to check up on Jim Connie?" He asked eagerly.

"Yes." Bella answered, "But I hesitate to ambush him at his workplace. Post office is a little more public than a repair shop, you know what I mean?"

Paul nodded, "You should go to his home address. That way you can," his eyes flickered to me, "interrogate his wife Sara also."

"Are you suspicious of her?" I asked.

"I think she knew her husband wasn't what he pretended to be. Emile and I passed her in the supermarket one time and she looked pretty unhappy to see him."

"How did Jim Connie handle the imprint?" Bella asked.

"He tried to ignore it. Emile wasn't real assertive or imposing, that wasn't his way, but he couldn't help but want to be close to his imprint, so he found a lot of reasons to go to the Post Office. I had errands there a few times and he'd come with me, Connie would run back into the stockroom the instant we walked through the door. Seems Emile had declared himself, thought if he said it first, Connie, who'd been playing the hetero-husband, might feel more comfortable being open about his true nature. And the guy is gay. Emile wouldn't have imprinted on him if he wasn't."

Bella nodded sagely. I really didn't know what this imprint business was all about, but I think I got the gist.

"So you think he might've told his wife, or she caught on, and got deadly angry?" Bella inquired.

Again Paul just shrugged, "You never know what people are capable of. I should go. Rachel's probably got dinner ready for me at home." For the first time he smiled and I wondered if imprinting wasn't just fairytale magic.

Then I realized he said he was going home for dinner and my awe of imprinting was replaced with my awe of his appetite.

"Later." Bella said and he was out the door.

"You should eat too Bambi." I told her.

She made another sandwich and swallowed it down with a glass of milk. After that she headed upstairs to shower and I sat on her bed looking out at the evening sky. She'd given me a book to read and pointed me in the direction of the VCR, but I felt far too contemplative to do think about anything else.

Bella emerges, a towel wrapped around her body and knotted at her chest, towel drying her hair.

"Still thinking about Emile?" She asked distractedly.

"Yeah, I just wish there was something more we could do for everyone who loved him. This town may not be so Podunk after all."

"Well, I feel the same way," She plopped down on the bed, still vigorously towel drying her hair, before pulling it away and running her fingers through the damp tresses, "But we're doing all we can, we'll find whoever did this. But for now? I can't keep thinking about it and I won't be able to sleep. I need to get drunk."

"Sounds like an idea. I'll shower, you get ready. You got your passport?"

"Huh? I do, but why? I thought we could just go to one of the local bars?"

"And run into more of your old buddies like the one from the store? No, thank you."

Bella's shoulders fell, "Damn. Good point."

I took a quick shower, trying not to grimace at the girly scent of Bella's shampoo. It's okay for her to smell like strawberries, not so much for me.

I emerged to find Bella dressed in jeans and a deep green silk top. _"Calvin, a real woman understands that skirts and alcohol do not mix."_

I was appeased when she threw on a pair of high heels. They were black. That's all I know.

I dressed quickly in a pair of grey slacks and a white dress shirt, rolled at the sleeves and open at the collar. My hair was still damp, but I was ready, so I just watched Bella go through her ritual. I sat on the edge of the bathtub while she used the blow dryer, flipping her hair this way and that until it was tousled and beautiful. I was pleasantly surprised by how little makeup she wore. It would be a crime to slather anything over that skin.

I had plenty of experience helping woman undress but not since my mother have I watched a woman go through the process of getting ready for a night out. Bella indulged me with a sort of quiet patience about the whole thing. I could get used to this.

Still, we were both ready within the hour.

"Where are we going?"

"To Canada!"

Bella gave me a blank stare, "To Canada. Okay. I'll bite. Where are we going in Canada?"

"Victoria, BC. I was there just a few months ago, neat place."

She blinked and I tried to fight off the uncertainty, "Then I guess we better get going."

It was close to 9 o'clock, so she had a point.

I pushed the truck as fast as it would go, which after everything I had done to it, was fairly impressive. The ferry at Port Angeles wasn't too crowded, so it didn't take a very long time for everyone to load. I tried not to be too grumpy, because we could have been on my yacht, but considering a good man was dead, I'd say I was pretty lucky to even be able to board the hunk of junk ferry. Overall, it took about two hours to get from Forks to Victoria and set off to check out the venues.

Tonight was a night to feel alive. We hit the bars hard, really hard, we danced and had a round with every new group we met, which meant that Bella had consumed far more than I think she had intended to. People were attracted to Bella, to us, and our energy; they seemed to gravitate towards us all night. I'd never had so much fun or felt so welcomed in a crowd of strangers. We went strong for a few hours, before Bella plead mercy. She was limping like a pirate so I decided it would be appropriate to hit a seaside bar, where she could fit in. She swatted my shoulder for saying so, but the truth was, I loved the place, low key and always comfortably full, mostly young professionals and locals.

I was feeling pretty good about it as we each took a stool at a high table, not far from the bar. Bella ordered one last drink, which she dubbed "the closure round". She had hit her peak about an hour ago, so now she was winding down and I was content to just sit there with her while she caught her breath. I was watching her with a small and absentminded smile on my face when I heard it.

"Cal baby!" _Oh dear God._ I would recognize that nasally voice anywhere.

"Rachel." It comes out as a low growl. I turn to see a petite blonde wearing skintight jeans, a corset and about 6 feet of makeup. Buried.

"You haven't been here in ages. I'm hurt, I thought we had something." She pouts, but it looks much more petulant than playful, nothing like when Bella pouts.

"Well I've been busy."

"Cal baby, come home with me." _Never have, never will._

Does she not even see Bella sitting here, just on the other side of me? Jeez, I know we're not together, but Rachel doesn't know that. I start to feel indignant on Bella's behalf. I look towards Bella who is staring blankly ahead, ducked down on her drink, straw lazily clutched between her perfect teeth.

"I'm sort of here with someone Rachel." I growled.

"Baby, don't play games with me."

My jaw clenched. I hear Bella mutter something. Is she singing? She's at the tired drunk stage, barely coherent.

"I think we're heading out of here."

"Cal, quit playing."

"Yeah _Cal baby_, quit playing…games with her heart." Bella mutters lazily, eyes still staring level ahead, but there is a crinkle in the corner of her eye that gives her away. She is amused.

"Exactly!" Rachel agrees eagerly, as if Bella had just properly summarized an important lesson.

"Before you tear her apart." Bella continues, a smirk forming.

What is she going on about? Definitely time to call it a night.

"Rachel. I have to get my friend home. I'll see you later."

"Cal! She's fine. Come on, we had something good together."

"Actually, we had four shots of lychee liqueur and a Celine Dion karaoke contest."

Bella snorts, always a lady.

"We had fun! Well, except for the part where you threw up, that was gross. You know what, that should have been my first clue. A real man can hold his liquor."

_I AM A MOTHERFUCKING VAMPIRE._

"Listen, Rachel –"

Bella's lilting voice interrupts me, "Rachel, you should have known from the start. And _Cal_, quit _playing games_ with her heart."

Rachel shoots Bella a grateful look, "I really should have. You know what, you are such a sweetheart." She reaches across me to put a friendly hand on Bella's forearm.

Bella nods emphatically, "You live your life the way you do to keep him coming back to you. Everything you do is for him. So what is it that he can't see?"

_What?!_

Rachel turns on me, "Yeah Cal, what is it you can't see?"

This is getting out of hand.

I sigh exasperatedly; Bella is really not helping me here and frankly she is not making much sense, even for a drunk.

"Rachel, I –" Then it dawns on me "Are you quoting the Backstreet Boys?!" I turn back in time to catch a giggling Bella and her drink before she topples off the barstool. Rachel glowers at her before stomping off. Good riddance.

"Alright Lush Lucy, let's get your sorry ass home." I swing her up into my arms, avoiding the alarmed looks of nearby patrons when she lets out a squeal and starts giggling even more madly.

"It might be sorry, but it sure is fine…" It would seem as though silly drunk is making a reappearance. This phase had introduced itself about an hour into the night's festivities, and that time she stomped from one bar to the next shouting exaggeratedly, "FE-FI-FO-FUM, ALL THE CANADIANS BETTER RUN!" They still liked her.

"Sure is." I tell her. Satisfied she nestles into my arms, the glass from the bar cradled against her chest as she continues to slurp happily at the fruity concoction. My girl is so silly.

Her eyes start to drift shut as her grip on the glass goes limp, just as we approach the door I take it from her and hand it to the bouncer. I steal enough as it is.

When I think she has drifted to sleep, I hear her whisper, "Hey Calvin?"

"Yeah?"

"Who won the karaoke contest?"

I can't help but smirk, _of course_, "I did."

She sighs contentedly and buries her face against my neck, just before she nods off I hear her mutter, "That's my boy."

I wandered the streets of Victoria for awhile, looking for my truck, but late night pedestrians were giving me funny looks, what with the woman asleep in my arms, so finally I decided to call it a night and get a hotel room.

I rolled Bella under the covers than crawled on top, laying on my side next to her her. I propped myself up on an elbow and watched her sleep, the anxiety, the sounds and thrills of the night all receded into the background, my mind finally at rest.

* * *

**Lychee liqueur anyone? Also, as a Canadian, let me say, again, sorry about Celine. **


	8. In the news today

**Just a short one for a smooth transition...next chapter is already in the works.**

* * *

**BPOV**

I awoke to a pounding headache and a beautiful man with a tender expression on his face looming over me. Despite my discomfort I smiled, because that's what you do when you see Calvin.

Then I tasted my stale mouth and clapped my hands over my lips, conscious of the prospect of the killer combo of hangover/morning breath.

"What's wrong?" Calvin asked, dumbfounded by my behaviour

Scrambling out of the strange bed I finally realized we were in a hotel. Next query: does this particular hotel offer a complimentary mini toothbrush and toothpaste? I must have been exceptionally intoxicated last night because I'm a teeth person. You know how some people can't go anywhere if their hair isn't brushed, or their socks are dirty? Well, I take my dental health very seriously, always have.

I made for the bathroom, calling behind me, "My breath stinks."

"Huh. I didn't notice, I stopped breathing." I love how he says this, like it's so mundane and matter of fact. There is no trace of melancholy or any other indication that he finds it bizarre he stopped breathing.

They didn't have toothpaste or a toothbrush, but they did have mouthwash. It was while I was throwing my head back to gurgle that I caught sight of myself in the mirror and spewed my mouthful of Listerine at my reflection. Great. Now the creature I am looking at not only appears to be the bastard child of Cruella De Vil and a raccon, but apparently the Incredibly Hulk wants to throw in as well.

Well then, all makeup must come off.

While I was wiping the toxic-looking green rivulets from the mirror I heard the TV turn on in the other room. I knew we should head straight back to Forks and talk to the Connies, but I couldn't resist a long, hot shower.

Feeling considerably more human when I emerged I realized I didn't have anything to wear but the clothes from the night before, which meant no underwear. I hate going commando in jeans. Just to avoid the extra unpleasantness of jeans sliding up damp legs I strolled out to see what Calvin was watching while wrapped up in a towel. The door to the bathroom was just to the left of the television and Calvin was lounging on the bed in front of it.

I was flattered when the expression that met my entry was wide eyes and a slack jaw. That's how I felt when he came out of my bathroom the other night with that towel slung low around his hips. Talk about a muscle buffet. Then I noticed that while the placement of the features was right, the emotion was wrong. In fact, if I had to describe his face at that moment in one word, I would say he was horrified.

A news anchor droned behind me, _"-last seen June 23__rd__, Isabella Swan was-"_

Oh dear God.

I stumbled my way over to the edge of the bed, my head awkwardly turned behind me, fixed on the screen. I collapsed onto the edge and Calvin scooted forward to sit beside me. On and on the train wreck went.

"_-police have yet to determine Swan's involvement-"_

"_-according to local, Matt Lucas, the man-"_

"_-have produced this sketch-" _

"Jesus Christ, that sketch makes me look like Dr. Doom."

It really did.

"_-emotional interview with Renee Dwyer, mother of-"_

And that's when it hit me, when my mother issued a plea for my "abductor" to return me to her, safe and unharmed. Her face was appropriately tear-streaked and she was clutching a god awful photo of me to her chest, the one from my junior high graduation in which I am wearing what looks like a carpet suit, one of her creations during her sewing phase.

Yup. That did it.

"Breath Bella."

"Oh God…"

"Breath!"

"That was my _mother_! Holy fuck, how could we have been so stupid? You! You just let him walk away!" I wasn't quite yelling but I was certainly high pitched.

"Who? Lucas?"

"Yes! Matt fucking Lucas! Goddammit, motherfucking, cock sucking, bitch balls, prick weasel!"

"What the hell is a prick weasel? And bitch balls? Really Bella, if that is how you smack talk then we've got work to do." _Oh, well, I'm so glad to see he's recovered from the shock_.

"Really? Do we?" I think by now I was operating at a pitch only dogs could hear, "Is that our biggest problem right now? Shut thehell up, _Dr. Doom_."

"You're hyperventilating. You need to calm down." Unaccustomed to emotionally overwhelmed females Calvin gripped the back of my neck and unceremoniously pushed my head down, "Here, put your head between your knees."

"Why don't _you_ put your head between my knees?" I yelled back, hysterical and flippant, muffled by the fabric of my towel. I heard a deep chuckle rumble above me.

One thousand deep breaths later, all accompanied by a screaming cacophony of "what ifs" I felt myself become resigned, but not necessarily in a bad way.

So…Okay. We are official what we set out to be.

Bank robbers.

Maybe I haven't actually robbed a bank yet, but if people hear a tree fall in the woods, that's what they are going to think happened. I bet even my mother thinks so, the whole "my daughter is innocent" act was just because she's trying to put out the public image of being a good mom. Which, in fairness to her, she once was and probably still is to her new kid.

"What do we do now?"

"Go back to Forks, figure out who killed Emile, then take off to another state." He says breezily, as if it is that simple, "That was a Seattle station, and, with crimes and disappearances as commonplace as they are today, we probably won't get too much national attention."

"Forks is still pretty close to Seattle. Do you really think any of my neighbors would hesitate to call me in?"

"No, which is why we're going to drive in, solve this bitch, and drive out."

"One day to solve a murder case?"

"Bella, not trying to toot my own horn or anything, but with my skill, this should be a cakewalk."

"Do you think we'll be safe to get on the Ferry?"

"Of course, Miss Fawn. You have your passport and I have my draculian wiles."

Another deep breath, "Okay. Let's do it." I got up and started moving for the door.

"Bella?"

"Yeah?"

"Not that I'm complaining, but you might want to get dressed before we go."

"Shit. Right."

I got dressed in the bathroom, my eyes fixed on my appearance. My face was on the news, albeit a very changed face since the only pictures available were the ones my mother had of me up until about grade nine. And thank God Calvin didn't ask me why that was. Still, it seemed my face might have to change further.

* * *

"Congratulations. You look like Ellen."

"I do not. It's not _that _short."

I smoothed down the short blonde wig I was wearing and climbed into the truck, about to disembark from the Ferry after another long boat ride back to Washington. We spent the duration of the trip sitting in the cafeteria so I could eat lunch. I was surprised Calvin had refrained from saying anything about my getup until now.

"Alright, alright, it's not that short. Still, it looks like a little boys haircut…"-it did, like a layered, messy pageboy, "which makes me uncomfortable because you're making that little boy haircut look very, very sexy."

_Oh boy._

"Yeah?"

Calvin had really fought me on this, saying it was unnecessary, I knew he loved my long hair, although it was a little overdramatic when he demanded the hairstylist not touch a single hair on my head. Finally I relented and instead bought the realest looking wig I'd ever seen in my life. The hairstylist was adamant about how it complimented my bone structure but agreed that I shouldn't cut my long hair. I was unfairly outnumbered.

"Yeah." Lord help me, his voice is all husky and low, pouring over my skin like warm honey. This is when Calvin gets dangerous, if a woman doesn't keep both her feet firmly planted on the ground, she might find them wrapped around his hips.

…Okay. So I'm attracted to Calvin. _Very_ attracted to Calvin. But I am a twenty five year old woman and I've long since learned my lesson about relying on people and consistency. People change. I've changed. I understand that and I now comprehend the immense risk of falling for someone who lives forever and thus has forever to keep changing. Imagine if Edward had decided he didn't want me anymore after I'd joined him in immortality. It is one thing to know I'd be alone and heartbroken for the rest of my life, it's quite another to be alone and heartbroken for eternity. Seriously, that is fucked up, which is why I am going to keep my head on my shoulders and my thighs firmly together.

On the other hand, I am an enlightened and cynical woman, and as such, well aware of the merits of casual sex…No. No! Calvin's different. Dangerous.

I smoothed down the fabric on the little grey dress I was wearing and slipped on my sunglasses. We would be especially careful to avoid the townspeople but as an extra precaution, it looked like we'd be making a special visit to Lauren to remove all traces of our recent encounter from her memory. Nonetheless, while the townspeople may recognize me, none had a photo of me, and it was best to keep it that way.

* * *

**Just a short BPOV. Read and review bitches!**

**...I don't mean it. You all are lovely.**

**Also, to all Ellen fans, I mean no offense. She's a pretty cool person. ...She was great in Nemo.**


	9. What a beautiful morning

**CalvinPOV**

_On the Ferry…_

You know how sometimes you wish you could just say exactly what was on your mind, no matter how inappropriate?

Yeah, well, Bella does. In fact, I think the disguise may have made it worse. A moment ago an elegant woman, her grey-white hair stylishly coiffed and wearing a pale pink pantsuit, missed grabbing the closing door to go into the lounge and accidentally hit Bella across the behind.

The older woman opened her mouth to apologize, but no, my Bella couldn't let things happen as civilly as that.

She turned to meet the woman's flustered expression and said ever so sweetly, "Thank you, may I have another?" Batting her eyelashes for dramatic effect.

The woman responded by snapping her mouth shut into a severe line, drawing herself up to her full height of 5 foot nothing, crossing herself then jerking the door back open to walk out.

Bella turned back to me with a smirk.

"Nice." I said dryly.

She shrugged and reached forward to receive the coke the bartender held out to her.

"Thanks." She murmured to the man and he nodded, glancing at me from the corner of his eye before looking back at her.

_Yeah buddy, I know you'd make a play for it if I weren't here. Too fucking bad. _

Something about the short hair made her seem so…naked. Her neck was long and graceful but so visible. There was just so much skin.

"What?" Bella asked, catching sight of my scowl.

"Just wondering what lame pick up lines Buddy here would use if I wasn't cockblocking with my mere presence."

She looked at the bartender who was busily pretending not to eavesdrop by scrubbing a glass clean.

She shrugged, "Ask him."

"I was being rhetorical. He's probably not even thinking about a pick up line, he probably skipped past that to the good stuff."

She looked at me from over the rim of her cup, starring expectantly.

"Fine. Buddy," His face snapped up from his task, "what pick up line did you want to use?"

His eyes fixed on mine blankly, "Those are nice jeans. Do you think I could get in them?"

Bella burst out laughing and I looked puzzled at her dress. She wasn't even wearing jeans.

But I was.

_Goddamn._

I grabbed her by the elbow and dragged her away, but she was hardly able to stand for laughing so hard.

We settled in the lounge, 45 long minutes still left in the trip. The older woman was studiously ignoring us, bringing a magazine up to cover her face. _Better Homes and Gardens._ Figures. I tried to picture Bella at that age, but I just couldn't get the image to form.

"I've heard better pick up lines." Bella mused.

"Me too." I said distractedly, still looking at our surroundings. I was being paranoid. No one would recognize me as Doctor Doom or Bella as Carpet Suit Teenybopper. It was obvious that Lucas guy was carrying a torch for Bella, considering he remembered me as a villain.

Bella was muttering to herself again, "I'm easy, but it looks like you are hard."

I snorted, "What?"

"What? It's a pick up line. What are some of your favourites?"

"That wouldn't be one of them. It's crude."

Now she snorted, "Don't be so uptight. We're talking lines that work here."

I decided to indulge her and held my hand out to her, "Would you be a doll and hold this for me while I go for a walk?"

"Ha! That is so cheesy!"

I shrugged, "Hey, you said lines that work. That works."

She starred at me speculatively, "Are you a betting man Mr. Warren?"

I leaned towards her in my seat, matching her conspiring tone, "I might be Bambi. What's the offer?"

"When we solve this case," I smiled at her use of 'when', instead of 'if', the girl had faith in me, "we're going to see who can get more numbers using only one liners."

"What are the stakes?"

"You win, you can have me. If I win, I call _all_ the shots between us."

I leaned back in my seat and considered her offer. I'd made myself abundantly clear about my attraction, but she didn't seem to realize that regardless of my words, she already called the shots.

"No." I answered, "I win, I get _one_ kiss. You win, you call the shots."

Truth is I've never been much of a business man. I'd rather Bella come to me because she wants to than because we made some deal. I don't think she realized that if she played this game with me, we'd be playing for keeps.

She raised her brow at my amendment but reached forward and shook on it.

The lounge was surrounded by windows and at that moment the sun decided to peak through the clouds so we left the lounge and walked down to the garage and settled back into the cab of the truck. The large room was stiflingly hot so Bella scooted across the bench and leaned against me, resting her head on my shoulder, a slight sheen of sweat on her skin. Her scent was concentrated in the cab and although I felt in control, I knew my pupils were probably dilated unnaturally.

"Hey Calvin?"

"Yeah?"

"Why don't you want to have sex with me?" I had to hand it to the girl, she didn't sound needy or hurt, just very curious.

"I don't want to ruin what we have." Cliché, but true.

"Jesus, really? I didn't know you were so bad in bed."

"Hardy har har." I sighed, "I know I haven't been keeping my libido in check, but, as I am now I've never have a friend, let alone a female friend. We talked about this, and we can both joke all we want, but we know it would only complicate things. I've been pretty clear about my…hopes, but you still don't know what you want. I think, if we're friends long enough, then if, or when, we try for anything more, we could survive it as friends if it didn't work out."

She took a deep breath, "You're right. Friends first. But, for the record, I've thought about it."

A groan escaped, "Don't tell me that."

She laughed and adopted a silly baritone, teasing me, "Now is not the time. But I will have you."

"Just as soon as you _let_ me have you, babe."

The loud speakers crackled and echoed throughout the huge room, "Attention passengers, we will soon be arriving at our destination, if you have a vehicle on board please return to it and wait to disembark. Thank you and have an enjoyable stay in Port Angeles."

We sat in amicable silence as we watched the staircase door open again and again as people went in search of their cars.

That silence lasted while we drove out from the boat and all the way to Forks; her head still leaned against my granite shoulder. I wondered that her neck hadn't started to ache.

As we passed the border into Forks she finally spoke up, "Where to first?"

"Charlie's? I'll park around the corner and go through the woods to the back so I can collect everything, in case any nosey neighbours might be keeping watch. Then we'll stop by Lauren's and I'll run up to the door and quickly work my magic." Her address had been listed in the phone book at the gas station we stopped at on our way over.

She agreed and another 45 minutes later we were on our way to the Connie's. The mood was sombre.

"Do you feel it?" She asked quietly.

"Yeah. I do."

You'd think a murder mystery would be thrilling, but for a case like this and people like Bella and I with our good instincts, it was just…dreadful. I literally felt full of dread.

I pulled up in front of bungalow surrounded by beautiful landscaping in a mature subdivision. The houses were pleasantly spaced and varied and the trees were developed and lush, the perfect setting for a family.

I pulled into the driveway, shut off the engine and listened to our surroundings.

"Paul's here," I murmured, "He's been waiting in the park behind their house for over an hour. He's not too happy that we're late. He's going to keep waiting outside. The Connies know him."

Bella pulled in a deep breath and held it. She grabbed hold of the door handle and released a puff of air, "Let's do this."

I followed her to the door and watched her knock. She was going through the motions as quickly as possible, like ripping off a band aid.

I could hear the creak of a chair and footsteps that seemed to drag towards the door, I looked down at the personalised welcome mat beneath my feet "Welcome to Jim and Sara's and God Bless!"

Fucking hell.

A man no older than 30 opened the door slowly, I was so focused on his face I hardly noticed his clothes. He had dark circles under his eyes, his thick brown hair was greasy and stringy and stubble covered the bottom half of his face.

He rubbed at his left eye with the back of his hand and grumbled out a "Can I help you?"

"We were hoping to talk to you and your wife, Sara?" Bella asked.

He shook his head, "Sara left. She's at her mother's."

He leaned against the doorframe and stared at us impassively. I got the impression that such open honesty and airing of dirty laundry was unusual for him. I looked beyond him at what seemed to be a pristine house, albeit a vacant one. The smell of rotting food lingered in the air, contradicting the domestic haven in front of me. A cross hung on the wall just inside the door and family pictures littered every available surface.

Bella cleared her throat and shuffled her feet; she squinted up at me, "Calvin. Just do it."

I didn't want to. This man may have done a very desperate thing because he had been thrust into a supernatural world where he could not escape his denial. His life was in ruins, he was pathetic to look at.

I knew he heard Bella, we could have been about to do something horrible to him, but his eyes were dead and he merely beckoned us in, "I was just making lunch."

We followed him into a bright kitchen, the cupboards were painted a clean white and the kitchen was covered with a bright checker tablecloth. _Better Homes and Gardens _Woman wouldn't like it, but no one could say it didn't look homey.

The feeling was undermined by the exhausted state of the man in it and the overloaded kitchen sink. The counter was littered with crumbs, spills and smears, little fruit flies seemed to bounce from spot to spot. Jim Connie picked up a butcher knife from the counter, undoubtedly the last remotely clean knife he had, and used it to smear peanut butter on an old pancake.

This shit was totally fucking depressing.

Bambi practically moaned her misery. She jerked the pancake away from him before he could take a bite and threw it in, or rather on top of, the overfilled garbage. He looked at it dispassionately.

His eyes flicked to me, "Well now that you've ruined my lunch, what do you want?"

I evaded his gaze and watched Bella gingerly make her way around the kitchen. She pulled open cupboards, finding little more than one can of kidney beans and a box of nearly empty, stale bran cereal. She looked in the fridge and found only spoiled milk, a block of mouldy cheese and another pancake, lovingly wrapped in saran. I watched her grab a pad of paper and a pen that was covered in sticky syrup, writing something down quickly.

"Calvin?" Bambi finally addressed me, "Can you run out and grab these items for me?"

_What the hell?_

"Jim, don't listen." I commanded him before answering Bella, "Is that a shopping list? Why?"

"Because this might be the last chance he has for a nice home cooked meal." She reasoned.

I mindlessly reached out to receive the list from her, "Good God, you're beautiful on the inside too. How horrible."

Her lip quirked. I looked back at ol' Jim, I think we both knew he had something to do with the murder. I couldn't leave my Bambi with a killer.

She saw my internal struggle, "Go, I'll be fine."

From further away I heard Paul tiredly say, "I'll keep an eye on her."

"This man quite possibly killed your best friend. Why in the name of Lucifer would you care if he had anything decent to eat?"

Bella gave me a confused look before she realized I who I was speaking to. She turned towards the sink and started cleaning.

"He was Emile's mate. I could care less about him, but I know this would be important to Emile." I knew it took something powerful to make a man like Paul this understanding.

I looked uncertainly at Bella's back, but finally decided that in this, I could trust Paul.

It took me a mere half hour to collect everything Bella needed. But by the time I came back, I realized it only took that half hour for Bella to scrub the kitchen clean, take out the trash and have a heartfelt conversation with a now sobbing Jim Connie as they both were seated at the kitchen table, a box of tissues between them.

This woman worked miracles.

"-and I-I broke my Sara's he-eart." He choked out before noticing me standing in the doorway, bags clutched in each hand. He tried to compose himself, scrubbing at his eyes and face with his hands. Bella hopped up from her seat and took the bags from me, giving me a meaningful look with her red-rimmed brown eyes.

I heard Paul's strangled voice in the distance, "He confessed. It's over. It's over."

Part of me was grateful and relieved to have missed it, part of me was curious as hell.

I took Bambi's place and reached a hand over to cover his on the table. He turned his palm up to wrap his fingers around mine.

He put his head down, resting his forehead against the inside of his elbow. I could see his eyelashes, blinking down at the print of the table cloth, before he let out a deep sigh of relief and sadness and closed his eyes, the tension leaving his hunched shoulders.

He fell asleep gripping my hand and I watched Bambi move quietly about the kitchen, conscious of the man's first few hours of sleep in likely a very long time. She was almost unnaturally quiet in the kitchen. Where other people wouldn't be able to help but rattle a few baking sheets and pans together while searing for a roasting pan, she managed to do it without even a scrap of metal.

For an hour and half, longer than it took her to clean up both the physical and psychological messes within the house, she cooked. The pace was slow and peaceful, and the sentiment seemed to seep into the quality of the food. It smelled wonderful.

She set the table, mindful of not disturbing Jim and smiled gently when she saw our clasped hands.

Eventually I was surrounded with glazed carrots, a medium rare roast beef, garlic mashed potatoes, green beans, sweet acorn squash, and glasses filled with red wine.

She gave me an apologetic look, "You're going to have to eat with us."

"That's fine." I said, surveying the feast, "It looks and smells wonderful."

She paused in straightening the napkins and smiled softly at me before running a hand through my hair affectionately.

Without us having to wake him, Jim blinked his eyes open, likely enticed into consciousness by the delicious aroma of the food in front of him.

He removed his hand from under mine to wipe a few new stray tears from his eyes, "I don't deserve this."

"Hush, don't think of that now." Bella chastised before settling into the chair on the other side of Jim. I started to carve the roast beef and after a moment of hesitation Jim reached for the glazed carrots. Bella took a sip of wine and observed Jim a moment longer before accepting a slice of beef.

We ate and talked about things that seemed surreally normal, weather, baseball and politics. I realized, as I forced a mouthful of green beans down, that I would remember this day forever and I would likely think of it often.

I had to beg out of dessert. Jim seemed quietly content to eat a large piece of tiramisu and sip a cup of coffee with Bella. They talked awhile longer and while Bella became increasingly distressed, prolonging the conversation, Jim became unnaturally peaceful.

He cleared the table of our plates and went about washing the dishes. Bella sat stone still a moment longer before rising from her chair and grabbing a kitchen towel to dry. I got up and started to clean the counters.

They started talking about music and as quietly as possible I called out to Paul. No answer. I listened more closely and realized that he was no longer there. How strange.

When we'd finished our task we stood about the kitchen awkwardly.

"I can't thank you enough." Jim said to Bella, he was looking at her like she was someone he cared about and she was starring back at him, her eyes wide and full of unshed tears.

What the fuck is going on?

Bella opened her mouth to speak but instead a sob escaped. She threw herself into his arms and hugged him tightly. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his cheek against the top of her head, his expression serene.

When he drew back he gently pushed Bella away from him and she turned to grab my hand and tug me outside. I followed obediently but looked back, puzzled, at Jim who merely nodded a goodbye to me, standing still in the middle of a now clean kitchen. Bella pulled the front door shut and I started to sputter.

"Bella, what are you-? He needs to-…What is going on?"

"Shh, get in the truck Calvin, we're going to say bye to the people at the reservation and then we're leaving Forks, once and for all." Her voice was husky with emotion.

I stood in front of the truck and watched her climb into the passenger side. Flabbergasted I finally walked over and got in the driver's side. I turned the engine on and looked questioningly at Bella only to see her starring resolutely ahead, I started to put the truck into reverse when I heard it. My hands stilled and my eyes snapped over to Bella, only to see her eyes clench tightly shut, pushing out one lone tear, wondering if she had heard it too.

A gunshot.


End file.
